Itmrnm  aooM 


COL.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  FLOWERS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM.  N.  C. 


PRESENTED  BY 

W.  W.  FLOWERS 


Cr.SO^'^ 


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BY   WILKIE    COLLIIS^S, 


AUTIIOK    OJ 


THE  AVOMAN  IN  WHITE,"  "QUEEN  OF  HEARTS,"  "  ANTONINA,"  ETC. 


EI  CUM  ON  D: 
WEST    AND   JOHNSTON. 
1863. 


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Etans  &  COCSWSLL.  PEiKixr.s, 

KO.    3    BEOAO    8TEEET,    CUAELESTON,    3.    C 


#-2' 


NO    NAME. 


THE  FIRST  SCENE. -COMBE-RxVVEN,  SOMERSETSHIRE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  liandg  on  llie  ball  do<k  pointed  to  lialf- 
past  six  in  the  morning.  The  house  was  a 
country  residence  in  West  Somersetshire, 
called  Combe-Rnvcn.  The  day  was  the  4th 
oi"  March,  and  the  year  was  eighteen  hundred 
and  forty-six. 

No  sounds  but  the  steady  ticking  of  the 
clock,  and  the  lumpi.-^h  snoring  of  a  large  dog 
•tretched  on  a  mat  outside  the  dining-room 
door,  disturbed  the  mysterious  morning  still- 
ness of  hall  and  staircase.  AVho  were  the 
sleepers  hidden  in  the  upper  regions  ?  Let 
the  house  reveal  its  own  secrets,  and  one  by 
one,  as  they  descend  the  stairs  from  their 
beds,  let  the  sleepers  disclose  themselves. 

As  the  clock  pointed  to  a  quarter  to  seven 
the  dog  woke  and  shook  himself.  After  wait- 
ing in  vain  for  the  footman,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  let  him  out,  the  animal  wandered 
re.stle.'-sly  from  one  closed  door  to  another  on 
the  gronnd-lloor ;  and,  returning  to  his  mat  in 
great  perpluxitj-,  appealed  to  the  .sleeping 
family  with  a  long  and  melancholy  howl. 

Before  the  last  notes  of  the  dog's  remon- 
strance had  died  away,  the  oaken  stairs  in  the 
higher  regions  of  the  house  creaked  under 
slowly  descending  footsteps.  In  a  minute 
more  the  first  of  the  female  servants  made 
her  appearanc-e,  Avith  a  dingy  woolen  shawl 
over  her  shoulders  —  for  the  March  morning 
was  bleak,  and  rheumatism  and  the  cook 
were  old  actjuaintauces. 

Receiving  the  dog's  first  cordial  advances 
wilh  the  worst  possible  grace,  the  cook  slowly 
opened  the  hall  door  and  let  the  animal  out. 
it  was  a  Avild  morning.  Over  a  spacious  lawn 
and  behind  a  l)lack  plantation  of  lirs  the  rising 
8un  rent  its  way  upward  through  piles  of  rag- 
ged gray  cloud ;  heavy  drops  of  rain  fell  few 
and  far  lii'tween  ;  the  Man-h  wind  shuddered 
round  the  corners  of  the  house,  and  the  wet 
trees  swayed  wearily. 

Seven  o'clock  struck,  and  the  signs  of  do- 
mestic life  began  to  show  themselves  in  more 
rapid  succession. 

The  house  maid  came  down  —  tall  and  slim, 
with  the  state  of  the  spring  temperature  writ- 


ten redly  on  her  nose.  The  lady's  maid  fol- 
lowed —  young,  smart,  jilump,  and  sleepy. 
The  kitchen  maid  came  next  —  afllicted  with 
the  faceache,  and  making  no  secret  of  her 
sufierings.  Last  of  all  the  footman  appeared, 
yawning  disconsolately,  the  living  picture  of 
a  man  who  felt  that  he  had  been  defrauded 
of  his  fair  night's  rest. 

The  conversation  of  the  servants  when  they 
assembled  before  the  slowly  lighting  kitchen 
fire  referred  to  a  recent  family  event,  and 
turned  at  starting  on  this  (juestion :  Had 
Thomas,  the  foolman,  seen  anything  of  the 
concert  at  Clifton,  at  which  his  master  and  the 
two  young  ladies  had  been  prcsi  nt  on  the  pre- 
vious night?  Yes,  Thomas  had  heard  the 
concert ;  he  had  been  paid  for  to  go  in  at  the 
back  :  it  was  a  loud  concert;  it  was  a  hot  con- 
cert;  it  was  described  at  the  top  of  the  bills 
as  Grand;  whether  it  was  worth  travelling  six- 
teen miles  to  hear  by  railway,  with  the  addi- 
tional hardship  of  going  back  nineteen  miles 
l)y  road  at  half-past  one  in  the  morning,  was 
a  (juestion  which  he  would  leave  his  master 
and  the  young  ladies  to  decide;  his  own  opin- 
ion, in  the  riiean  time,  being  unliesitatingly 
No.  Further  inquiries  on  the  part  of  all  the 
female  servants  in  succession  elicited  no  addi- 
tional information  of  any  sort.  Thomas  could 
hum  none  of  the  songs,  and  could  describe 
none  of  the  ladies'  dresses.  His  audience  ac- 
cordingly gave  him  up  in  despair,  and  the 
kitchen  "small  talk  flowed  baik  into  its  ordi- 
nary channels  until  the  dcM-k  struck  eight, 
and  startled  the  assembled  servants  into  sep- 
arating for  their  morning's  work. 

A  (jnarter-past  eight,  and  nothing  happened. 
Half-past,  and  more  signs  of  life  appearctl  i'rom 
the  bedroom  regions.  The  next  member  of 
the  family  who  came  down  stairs  was  'Mr. 
Andrew  Vanstonc-,  the  master  of  the  house. 

Tall,  stout,  and  upright  —  with  bright  blue 
eyes,  and  healthy,  fiorid  complexion  —  his 
brown  plush  shooting  jacket  carelessly  but- 
toned awry;  his  vixenish  little  Scotch  terrier 
barking  unrebuked  at  his  heels;  one  hand 
thrust  nito  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  the  other 
smacking  the  balusters  cheerfully  as  he  came 
down  stairs  humming  a  tune  —  Mr.  Vanstone 


O 


32195 


NO  NAME. 


showed  his  character  on  the  surface  of  him 
freely  to  all  men.  An  easA-,  heartj-,  hand- 
some, good  humored  gentleman,  who  walked 
on  the  sunny  side  of  the  v/ay  of  life,  and  who 
asked  nothing  better  than  to  meet  all  his  fel- 
low passengers  in  this  world  on  the  sunny  side 
too.  Estimating  him  by  years  he  had  turned 
fifty.  Judging  him  by  lightness  of  heart, 
strength  of  constitution,  and  capacity  for  en- 
joyment, he  was  no  older  than  most  men  who 
have  only  turned  thirty. 

"Thomas!"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone,  taking  up 
his  old  felt  hat  and  his  thick  walking  stick 
from  tlie  hall  table.  "  Breakfast  this  morning 
at  ten.  The  young  ladies  are  not  likely  to  be 
down  earlier  after  the  concert  last  night.  By- 
the-by,  how  did  you  like  the  concert  yourself, 
ell  V  You  thought  it  was  Grand  ?  Quite 
right;  so  it  was.  Nothing  but  Crash-Ban^, 
varied  now  and  then  by  Bang-Crash ;  all  tne 
women  dressed  within  an  inch  of  their  lives ; 
smothering  heat,  blazing  gas,  and  no  room  for 
anybody — yes,  yes,  Thomas,  Grand  's  the  word 
for  it,  and  Comfortable,  isn  't."  Witli  that 
expression  of  opiuion  Mr.  Vanstone  wliistled 
to  his  vixenish  terrier,  flourished  his  stick  at 
the  hall  door  in  cheerftd  defiance  of  the  rain, 
and  set  off  through  wind  and  weather  for  his 
morning  walk. 

Tiic  hands,  stealing  their  steady  way  round 
the  dial  of  the  clo.-k,  pointed  to  ten  minutes  to 
nine.  Another  member  of  the  family  appeai'ed, 
on  the  stairs — Miss  Garth,  the  governess. 

No  observant  eye  could  have  observed  Miss 
Garth  without  seeing  at  once. that  she  was  a 
north-countrywoman.  Her  hard  featured  face, 
her  masculine  readiness  and  decision  of  move- 
ment, her  obstinate  honesty  of  look  and  man- 
ner, all  proclaimed  her  border  birth  and  border 
training.  Though  little  more  than  forty  j-ears 
of  age  her  hair  v/as  quite  gray,  and  slic  wore 
over  it  the  plain  cap  of  an  old  woman.  Neither 
hair  nor  head-dress  was  out  of  harmony  with 
her  face — it  looked  older  than  her  years.  The 
hard  handwriting  of  trouble  had  scored  it 
heavilv  at  some  past  time.  The  self-possession 
of  her  progress  down  the  stairs,  and  the  air  of 
habitual  authority  with  which  she  looked  about 
her  spoke  well  for  her  position  in  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  family.  This  was  evidently  not  one  of 
the  forlorn,  persecuted,  pitiably  dependent 
order  of  governesses.  Here  was  a  woman  who 
lived  on  ascertained  and  honorable  terms  with 
her  employers — a  woman  who  looked  capable 
of  sending  any  parents  in  England  to  the 
right  about  if  they  failed  to  rate  her  at  her 
proper  value. 

"  Breakfast  at  ten  ?"  repeated  Miss  Garth 
when  the  footman  had  answered  the  bell  and 
had  mentioned  his  master's  orders.  "  Ha !  I 
thought  what  would  come  of  that  concert  last 
night.  When  people  who  live  in  the  country 
patronize  pubhc  amusements,  public  amuse- 
ments return  the  compliment  by  upsetting  the 
family  afterward  for  days  together.     You  're 


upset,  Thomas;  I  can* see;  your  eyes  are  as 
red  as  a  ferret's,  and  your  cravat  looks  as  if 
you  had  slept  in  it.  Bring  the  kettle  at  a 
quarter  to  ten,  and  if  you  don't  get  better  in 
the  course  of  the  day  come  to  me  and  I  '11  give 
you  a  dose  of  physic.  That 's  a  well  meaning 
lad  if  you  only  let  him  alone,"  continued  Miss 
Garth,  in  soliloquy,  when  Thomas  had  retired, 
"  but  he  's  not  strong  enough  for  concerts 
twenty  miles  off.  They  wanted  me  to  go  with 
them  last  night.     Yes  :  catch  me  !" 

Nine  o'clock  struck,  and  the  minute-hand 
stole  on  to  twenty  minutes  past  the  hour  before 
any  more  footsteps  were  heard  on  the  stairs. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  two  ladies  appeared, 
descending  to  the  breakfast-room  together  — 
Mrs.  Vanstone  and  her  eldest  daughter. 

If  the  personal  attractions  of  Mrs.  Vanstone 
at  an  earlier  period  of  life  had  depended  solely 
on  her  native  English  charms  of  complexion 
and  freshness,  she  must  have  long  since  lost 
the  last  relics  of  her  fairer  self.  But  her 
beauty  as  a  young  woman  had  passed  beyond 
the  average  national  limits,  and  she  still  pre- 
served the  advantage  of  her  more  exceptional 
personal  gifts.  Although  she  was  now  in  her 
forty-fourth  year,  although  she  had  been  tried 
in  by-gone  times  by  the  premature  loss  of  niore 
than  one  of  her  children,  and  by  long  attacks 
of  illness  which  had  followed  those  bereave- 
ments of  former  years,  she  still  ])reserved  the 
fair  proportion  and  subtle  delicacy  of  feature 
once  associated  with  the  all-adorning  brightness 
and  freshness  of  beauty,  which  had  left  her 
never  to  return.  Her  eldest  child,  now  de- 
scending the  stairs  by  her  side,  was  the  mirror 
in  which  she  could  look  back  and  see  again 
the  reflection  of  her  own  youth.  There,  folded 
thick  on  the  daughter's  head,  lay  the  massive 
dark  hair  which  on  the  mother's  was  fast  turn- 
ing gray.  There,  in  the  daughter's  cheek, 
glowed  the  lovely  dusky  red  which  had  fade<i 
from  the  mother's  to  bloom  again  no  more. 
Miss  Vanstone  had  already  reached  the  first 
maturity  of  womanhood.  She  had  completed 
her  six-and-twentieth  year.  Inheriting  the 
dark,  majestic  character  of  her  mother's 
bfeautj',  she  had  yet  hardly  inherited  all  its 
charms.  Though  the  shape  of  her  face  was 
the  same,  the  features  were  scarcely  so  deli- 
cate, their  proportion  was  scai'cely  so  true. 
She  was  not  so  tall.  She  had  the  dark  brown 
eyes  of  her  mother — •full  and  soft,  with  the 
steady  lustre  in  tliem  which  Mrs.  Vanstone's 
eyes  had  lost — and  yet  there  was  less  interest, 
less  refinement  and  depth  of  feeling  in  her  ex- 
pression :  it  was  gentle  and  feminine,  but 
clouded  by  a  certain  quiet  reserve  from  which 
her  mother's  face  was  free.  If  we  dare  to 
look  closely  enough  may  we  not  observe  that 
the  moral  force  of  character  and  the  higher 
intellectual  capacities  in  parents  seem  often  to 
wear  out  mysteriously  in  the  course  of  trans- 
mission to  children  ?  In  these  days  of  insidi- 
ous nervous  exhaustion  and  subtly-spreading 


NO  NAME. 


nervous  malarly,  is  it  not  possible  that  tlie  same 
rule  may  apply,  less  rarely  than  Ave  are  willing 
to  admit,  to  the  bodily  git'ts  as  well  V 

The  mother  and  daughter  slowly  descended 
the  stairs  together — the  first  dressed  in  dark 
brown,  with  an  Indian  shawl  thrown  over  her 
shoulders ;  the  second  more  simply  attired  in 
black,  with  a  plain  collar  and  ciiit's,  and  a  dark 
orano'e-colored  ribbon  over  the  bosom  of  her 
dress.  As  they  crossed  the  hall  and  entered 
the  breakfast-room  ]\Iiss  Yanstone  was  full  of 
the  all-absorbing  subject  of  the  last  night's 
concert. 

"  I  am  so  son-y,  mamma,  you  were  not  with 
us,"  she  said.  "  You  have  been  so  strong  and 
so  well  ever  since  last  summer — you  have  felt 
so  many  years  younger,  as  you  said  yourself — 
that  I  am  sure  the  exertion  would  not  have 
been  too  nnich  for  you." 

"  Perhaps  not,  my  love ;  but  it  was  as  well 
to  keep  on  the  safe  side." 

"  Quite  as  well,"  remarked  ]Miss  (larth,  ap- 
jiearing  at  the  breakfast-room  door.  "  Look 
at  Norali  (good  morning,  my  dear) — look,  I 
say,  at  Noraii.  A  i)erfect  wreck ;  a  living 
j)roof  of  your  Avisdom  and  mine  in  staying  at 
liome.  The  vile  gas,  the  foul  air,  the  late 
hours — Avhat  can  you  expect  ?  She  's  not  made 
of  iron,  and  she  suffers  accordingly.  No,  my 
dear,  you  needn't  deny  it.  I  see  you've  got 
a  headache." 

Norah's  dark,  handsome  face  brightened 
into  a  smile,  then  lightly  clouded  again  with 
its  accustomed  ([uiet  reserve. 

"  A  very  little  headache  ;  not  half  enough  to 
make  me  regret  the  concert,"  she  said,  and 
Avalked  away  by  herself  to  the  window. 

On  the  far  side  of  a  ganlen  and  paddock 
the  view  overlooked  a  stream,  some  farm  build- 
ings whicli  lay  beyond,  and  the  opening  of  a 
Avooded  rocky  pass  (^called,  in  Somersetshire,  a 
Combe),  Avhich  here  clell  its  Avay  through  the 
hills  that  closed  the  prospect.  A  Avi?)diiig  strip 
of  road  was  visible,  at  rto  great  distance,  amidst 
the  undulations  of  the  open  ground  ;  and  along 
this  strip  the  stahvart  figure  of  ^Ir.  Yanstone 
was  noAv  easily  recognizable,  returning  to  the 
house  from  his  morning  Avalk.  H(^  flourished 
liis  stick  gayly  as  he  observed  hiselilost  daugh- 
ter at  the  Avin<low.  She  nodded  and  Avaved 
her  hand  in  return,  very  gracefully  and  pret- 
tily, but  with  something  of  old-fashioned  for- 
mality in  her  manner,  Avliich  looked  strangely 
in  .so  young  a  Avoman,  and  Avhich  seemed  out 
of  harmony  Avith  a  salutation  addressed  to  her 
father. 

The  hall  clock  struck  the  ailjourned  break- 
fast-hour. WIk'u  the  minute  hand  had  record- 
ed the  la{)se  of  live  minutes  more,  a  door  l)anged 
in  the  bedroom  regions — a  clear  young  voice 
was  heard  singing  blithely ;  light,  rapid  footsteps 
patti'red  on  the  ui)j)er  stairs,  descended  with  a 
jump  to  the  landing,  and  pattered  again,  faster 
than  ever,  doAvn  the  lower  flight.  In  another 
moment  the  youngest  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  two 
daughters  (and  tAvo  only  surviving  children) 


dashed  into  view  on  the  dingy  old  oaken  stairs 
with  the  suddenness  of  a  flash  of  light,  and 
clearing  the  last  three  steps  into  the  hall  at  a 
jump,  presented  herself  breathless  in  the  break- 
fast-room, to  make  the  family  circle  complete. 
By  one  of  those  strange  caprices  of  nature, 
which  science  leaves  still  unexplained,  the 
youngest  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  children  presented 
no  recognizable  resemblance  to  either  of  her 
parents.  How  had  she  come  by  her  hair  ?  how 
had  she  come  by  her  eyes  ?  l'2v(>n  her  father 
and  mother  had  asked  therasclves  those  ques- 
tions as  she  grcAv  up  to  girlhood,  and  had  been 
sorely  perplexed  to  ansAver  them.  Her  hair 
was  of  that  purely  light-brown  hue — unmixed 
Avith  flaxen,  or  yelloAV,  or  red — Avhich  is  oftener 
seen  on  the  plumage  of  a  bird  than  on  the  head 
of  a  human  being.  It  Avas  soft  and  plentiful, 
and  Avaved  doAvuAvard  from  her  low  forehead 
in  regular  folds;  but  to  some  tastes  it  was  dull 
and  dead,  in  its  ab.=olute  Avant  of  glossiness,  in 
its  monotonous  purity  of  plain  light  color.  Her 
eyebrows  and  eyelashes  Avere  just  a  shade 
darker  than  her  hair,  and  seemed  made  ex- 
pressly for  those  violet-blue  eyes,  Avhich  assert 
their  most  irresistible  charm  Avhen  associated 
Avith  a  fair  complexion.  But  it  Avas  here  ex- 
actly that  the  promise  of  her  face  failed  of 
performance  in  the  most  startling  maTiner.  The 
eyes,  Avhich  should  have  been  dark,  Avere  in- 
comprehensibly and  discordantly  light;  they 
Avere  of  that  nearly  colorless  gray  Avhich, 
though  little  attractive  in  itself,  possesses  the 
rare  compensating  merit  of  interpreting  the 
finest  gradations  of  thought,  the  gentlest 
changes  of  feeling,  the  deepest  trouble  of  pas- 
sion,"with  a  subtle  transparency  of  expression 
Avhich  no  darker  eyes  can  rival.  Thus  tpiaintly 
self-contradictory  in  the  upper  part  of  her 
face,  she  Avas  hardly  less  at  variance  Avith  es- 
tablished ideas  of  harmony  in  the  loAver.  Her 
lips  had  the  true  feminine  delicacy  of  form, 
her  cheeks  the  lovely  roundness  and  smooth- 
ness of  youth ;  but  the  mouth  Avas  too  large 
and  firm',  the  chin  too  square  and  massive  for 
her  sex  and  age.  Her  complexion  partook  of 
the  pure  monotony  of  tint  Avhich  characterized 
her  hair — it  was  of  the  same  soft,  warm,  creamy 
fairness  all  over,  Avithout  a  tinge  of  color  in  the 
cheeks,  except  on  occasions  of  unusual  bodily 
exertion  or  sudden  mental  disturbance.  The 
Avhole  countenance  —  so  remarkable  in  its 
strongly  opposed  characteristics — Avas  rendered 
additionally  striking  by  its  extraordinary  mo- 
bility. Tlie  large,  electric,  light  gray  _  eyes 
Avere  hardly  ever  in  repose;  all  varieties  of 
expression  fblloAved  each  other  over  the  plas- 
tic, ever-changing  face,  Avith  a  giddy  rapidity 
Avhich  left  sober  analysis  far  behind  in  the  race. 
The  girl's  exuberant  vitality  asserted  itself  all 
over  her,  from  head  to  foot.  Her  figure  — 
taller  than  her  sister's,  taller  than  the  average 
of  Avoman's  height ;  instinct  Avith  such  a  se- 
ductive, serpentine  suppleness,  so  hglitly  and 
playfully  graceful  that  its  movements  suggest- 
ed, not  unnaturally,  the  movements  of  a  young 


t^^  O  <C  Xu  O 


NO  NAME. 


cat  —  lier  figure  was  so  perfectly  developed 
already  that  no  one  Tvho  saw  her  could  have 
supposed  that  she  was  only  eighteen.  She 
bloomed  in  the  full  physical  maturity  of  twenty 
years  or  more  —  bloomed  naturally  and  irre- 
sistibly, in  right  of  lier  matchless  health  and 
strength.  Here,  in  truth,  lay  the  mainspring 
•  of  this  strangely  constituted  organization.  Her 
headlong  course  down  the  house  stairs ;  the 
■brisk  activity  of  all  her  movements ;  the  in- 
cessant sparkle  of  expression  in  her  face ;  the 
enticing  gayety  which  took  the  hearts  of  the 
.  qiiietest  people  by  storm  —  even  the  reckless 
■  delight  in  bright  colors,  which  showed  itself  in 
her  brilliantly  striped  morning  dress,  in  her 
fluttering  ribbons,  in  the  large  scarlet  rosettes 
■ou  her  smart  little  shoes — all  sprang  alike  from 
the  same  source  ;  from  the  overflowing  physical 
health  which  strengthened  evci'y  muscle,  braced 
every  nerve,  and  set  the  v/arm  young  blood 
tingling  through  her  veins  like  the  blood  of  a 
growing  child. 

On  her  entry  into  the  breakfast-room  she 
was  saluted  with  the  eustomaiy  remonstrance 
which  her  flightly  disregard  of  all  punctuality 
habitually  provoked  from  the  long  suffering 
household  authorities.  In  ^liss  Garth's  favoi-- 
ite  phra&;e,""  Magdalen  was  born  with  all  the 
senses — except  a  sense  of  order.*' 

Magdalen  !  It  was  a  strange  name  to  have 
given  her  ?  Strange  indeed  ;  and  yet  chosen 
under  no  extraordinary  circumstances.  The 
name  had  been  borne  by  one  of  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  sisters,  who  had  died  in  eai-ly  youth ; 
and  in  affectionate  rtnuembrance  of  her  he  had 
called  his  second  daughter  by  it — just  as  he 
had  called  his  eldest  daughter  Norah  for  his 
wife's  sake.  Magdalen  !  Surely  the  grand 
old  Bible  name  —  suggestive  of  a  sad  and 
sombre  dignity ;  recalling,  in  its  first  associa- 
tion, mournful  ideas  of  penitence  and  seclu- 
sion— had  been  here,  as  events  had  turned  out, 
inappropriately  bestowed!  Surely  this  self- 
contradictory  girl  had  perversely  accomplished 
one  contradiciion  more  by  developing  into  a 
character  which  was  out  of  all  harmony  with 
her  own  Christian  name  ! 

"  Late  again  !"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  as  Mag- 
dalen breathlessly  kissed  her. 

"  Late  again  !"  chimed  in  Miss  Garth,  when 
Magdalen  came  her  way  next.  "  Well  ?"  she 
went  on,  taking  the  girl's  chin  familiarly  in 
,her  hand,  with  a  half-satirical,  half-fond  atten- 
•tion  which  betrayed  that  the  youngest  daugh- 
ter, with  all  her  fjxults,  was  the  governess's 
■favorite— "Well?  and  what  has  the  concert 
done  for  yon!  What  form  of  suffering  has 
dissipation  inflicted  on  your  system  this  morn- 
ing 'r 

"  Suffering !"  repeated  Magdalen,  recover- 
ing her  breath,  and  the  use  of'her  tongue  with 
it.  "I  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  word : 
if  there  's  anything  the  matter'with  me,  I  'm 
too  well.  Suffering  !  I  'm  ready  for  another 
concert  to-night,  and  a  ball  to-morrow,  and  a 


play  the  day  after.  Oh,"  cried  Magdalen, 
dropping  into  a  chair,  and  crossing  her  hands 
rapturously  on  the  table.  "  how  I  do  like  pleas- 
ure !" 

"  Come  !  that 's  explicit,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Miss  Garth.  "  I  think  Pope  must  have  had  you 
in  his  mind  when  he  wrote  his  famous  lines : 

"  '  Men  some  to  buRinoas,  some  to  pleasure  take, 
But  every  woman  is  at  heart  a  iiikc'  " 

"  The  deuce  she  is !"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone, 
entering  the  room  while  Miss  Garth  was 
making  her  quotation,  with  the  dogs  at  his 
heels.  "Well ;  live  and  learn.  If  you  're  all 
rakes.  Miss  Garth,  the  sexes  are  turned  topsy- 
turvy with  a  vengeance,  and  the  men  will  have 
nothing  left  for  it  but  to  stop  at  home  and  darn 
the  stockings.     Let 's  have  some  breakfast." 

"  How-d'-ye-do,  papa?"  said  Magdalen, 
taking  IMr.  Vanstone  as  boisterously  round  the 
neck  as  if  he  belonged  to  some  larger  order 
of  Newfoundland  dog,  and  was  made  to  be 
romped  with  at  his  daughter's  convenience. 

"I'm  the  rake  Miss  Garth  means;  and  I 
want  to  go  to  another  concert  —  or  a  play,  if 
you  like — or  a  ball,  if  you  prefer  it  —  or  any- 
thing else  in  the  way  of  amusement  that  puts 
me  into  a  new  dress,  and  plunges  me  into  a 
crowd  of  people,  and  illuminates  me  with 
plenty  of  light,  and  sets  me  in  a  tingle  of  ex- 
citement all  over,  from  head  to  foot.  Any- 
thing will  do,  as  long  as  it  doesn't  send  us  to 
bed  at  eleven  o'clock." 

]\Ir.  Vanstone  sat  down  composedly  under 
his  daughter's  flow  of  language,  like  a  man 
who  was  well  used  to  verbal  inundation  from 
that  quarter.  "  If  I  am  to  be  allowed  my 
choice  of  amusements  next  time,"  said  the 
worthy  gentleman,  "  I  think  a  play  will  suit 
me  better  than  a  concert.  The  girls  enjoyed 
themselves  amazingly,  my  dear,"  he  continued, 
addressing  his  wife.  "  More  than  I  did,  I  nmst 
say.  It  was  altogether  above  my  mark.  They 
played  one  piece  of  music  which  lasted  forty 
minutes.  It  stopped  three  times  by  the  way; 
and  we  all  thought  it  was  done  each  time,  and 
clapped  our  hands,  rejoiced  to  be  rid  of  it. 
But  on  it  went  again,  to  our  great  surprise  and 
mortification,  till  we  gave  it  up  in  despair,  and 
all  wished  ourselves  at  Jericho.  Norah,  my 
dear,  when  we  had  Crash-Bang  for  forty  min- 
utes, with  three  stoppages  by  the  way,  what 
did  they  call  it  ?" 

"  A  Symphony,  papa,"  replied  Norah. 

"  Yes,  you  darling  old  Goth,  a  Symphony 
by  the  great  Beethoven !"  added  Magdalen. 
"  How  can  you  say  you  were  not  amused  ? 
Have  you  forgotten  the  yellow-looking  foreign 
woman,  with  the  unpronounceable  name  ? 
Don't  you  remember  the  faces  she  made  when 
she  sang  ?  and  the  way  she  curtesied  and  cur- 
tesied,  till  she  cheated  the  foolish  people  into 
crying  encore?  Look  here  mamma  —  look 
here,  Miss  Garth!" 

She  snatched  up  an  empty  plate  from  the 
table  to  represent  a  sheet  of  music,  held  it 


NO  NAME. 


before  lier  in  the  established  concert  -  room 
position,  and  produced  an  imitation  of  the  un- 
fortunate singer's  grimaces  and  curtesyipgs  so 
accurately  aiid  (piaintly  true  to  the  original, 
that  her  fatlicr  roared  with  laughter;  and  even 
the  footman  (who  came  in  at  that  moment  with 
the  post-bag)  rushed  out  of  the  room  again, 
and  committed  the  indecorum  of  echoing  his 
master  audibly  on  the  other  side  of  the  door. 

"  Letters,  papa.  I  want  the  key,"  said  Mag- 
dalen, passing  fi'om  the  imitation  at  the  break- 
fast-table to  the  ]iost-bag  on  the  sideboard  with 
the  easy  abruptness  which  ch.iracterized  all 
her  actions. 

]Mr.  Vanstone  senrched  his  pockets  and 
ghook  his  head.  Tliough  his  youngest  daugh- 
ter might  resemble  him  in  nothing  else,  it  was 
easy  to  see  where  Magdalen's  unmethodical 
liabits  came  from. 

"  I  dare  say  I  have  left  It  in  the  library, 
along  with  my  other  keys,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone. 
"Go  and  look  for  it,  my  dear." 

"  You  really  should  check  IVIagdalen,"  plead- 
ed Mrs.  Vanstone,  addressing  her  husband, 
when  her  daughter  had  left  the  room.  "  Those 
habits  of  minucry  are  growing  on  her,  and  she 
sneaks  lo  you  with  a  levity  which  it  is  posi- 
tively shocking  to  hear." 

"  Exactly  what  I  have  said  myself,  till  I  am 
tired  of  repeating  it,"  remarked  Miss  Garth. 
"  She  treats  ISIr.  N'anstone  as  if  he  was  a  kind 
of  younger  brother  of  hers." 

"  You  are  kind  to  us  in  everything  else, 
papa,  and  }ou  make  kind  allowance  for  Mag- 
dalen's high  spirits,  don't  you  V"  said  the  quiet 
Norah,  taking  her  father's  part  and  her  sister's 
with  so  little  show  of  resolution  on  the  surface, 
that  few  observers  would  have  been  sharp 
enough  to  detect  the  genuine  substance  be- 
neath it. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dcc^r,"  said  good-natured 
Mr.  Vanstone.  "  Thank  you  for  a  very  pretty 
speech.  As  lor  Magdalen,"  he  continued,  ad- 
dressing his  wife  and  INIiss  Garth,  "  she  's  an 
unbroken  filly.  Let  her  caper  and  kick  in  the 
paddock  to  her  heart's  content.  Time  enough 
to  break  her  to  harness  when  she  gets  a  little 
older." 

The  door  opened,  and  Magdalen  returned 
with  the  key.  Slie  unlocked  the  post-ba<r  at 
the  sideltoard  and  poured  out  the  letters  in  a 
heap.  Sorting  them  gayly  in  less  than  a  niin- 
ute  she  ai)proached  the  breakfast-table  with 
both  hands  full,  aiul  delivered  the  letters  all 
round  with  the  business-like  rapidity  of  a 
London  postman. 

"  Two  for  Norah,"  she  announced,  beginning 
with  her  sister.  "  Three  for  Miss  Garth.  None 
for  mamma.  One  for  me.  And  the  other  six 
all  for  papa.  You  lazy  old  darling,  you  hate 
answering  letters,  don't  you  ?"  pursued  Mag- 
dalen, dropping  the  ])Ostman's  character  and 
assuming  tiie  daughter's.  '•  Mow  you  will  grum- 
ble and  fidget  in  the  study  !  and  how  you  will 
wish   there  were  no  such  things  as  letttrs  in 


the  world!  and  how  red  your  nice  old  bald 
head  will  get  at  the  top  'with  the  worry  of 
writing  the  answers!  and  how  many  of  the 
answers  you  will  leave  until  to-morrow,  after 
all !  The  Bristol  Theatre  's  opeji,  papa"  she 
whispered,  sl\ly  and  suddenly  in  her  father's 
ear ;  "  I  saw  it  in  the  newspaper  when  I  went 
to  the  library  to  get  the  key.  Let's  go  to- 
morrow night!" 

While  his  daughter  was  chattering  Mr.  Van- 
stone was  mechanically  sorting  his  letters.  He 
turned  over  the  first  four  in  succession,  and 
looked  carelessly  over  the  addresses.  When 
he  came  to  the  fifth,  his  attention,  which  had 
hitherto  wandered  toward  Magdalen,  suddenly 
became  fixed  on  the  post-mark  of  the  letter. 

Stooping  over  him,  with  her  head  on   his 

shoulder,  Magdalen  could  see  the  post-mark  as 

plainly  as  her  father  saw  it — New  Orleans. 

"  An    American    letter,   papa !"    she   said. 

"  Who  do  you  know  at  New  Orleans?" 

Mrs.  Vanstone  started,  and  looked  eagerly 
at  her  husband  the  moment  ^lagdalen  spoke 
those  words. 

Mr.  Vanstone  said  nothing.  He  quietly  re- 
moved his  daughter's  arm  from  his  neck,  as  if 
he  wished  to  be  free  from  all  interruption. 
She  returned  accordingly  to  her  place  at  the 
breakfast-table.  Her  fatlier,  with  the  letter 
in  his  hand,  waited  a  little  before  he  opened 
it;  her  mother  looking  at  him  the  while  with, 
an  eager,  expectant  attention,  which  attracted 
Miss  Garth's  notice  and  Norah's  as  well  a». 
Magdalen's. 

Al\er  a  minute  or  more  of  hesitation  Mr. 
Vanstone  opened  the  letter. 

His  face  changed  color  the  inst^'^nt  he  read 
the  first  lines ;  his  checks  fivding  to  a  dull,  yel- 
low-brown hue,  which  would  have  been  ashy 
paleness  in  a  less  florid  man ;  and  his  expres- 
sion becoming  saddened  and  overclouded  in  a 
moment.  Norah  and  Magdalen,  watching 
anxiously,  saw  nothing  but  the  change  that 
passed  over  their  father.  Miss  Garth  alone 
observed  the  effect  whii-h  that  change  pro- 
duced on  the  attentive  mistress  of  the  house. 
It  was  not  the  effect  which  she,  or  any  one, 
could  liave  anticipated.  Mrs.  Vanstone  looked 
excited  rather  than  alarmed.  A  faint  fiush 
rose  on  her  cheeks — her  eyes  brijihtened — she 
stirred  the  tea  round  and  roinid  in  her  cup  in 
a  restless,  impatient  manner  which  was  not 
natural  to  her. 

Magdalen,  in  her  capacity  of  spoiled  child, 
was,  a^s  usual,  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 
"  What  it  the  matter,  pajja?"  she  asked. 
"  Nothing,"   said    Mr.    Vanstone,   sharply, 
without  looking  up  at  her. 

"  r  m  sure  there  must  be  something,"  per- 
sisted Magdalen.  "  I'  m  sure  there  is  oad 
news,  papa,  in  that  American  letter." 

"  There  is  nothing  in  the  letter  that  con- 
cerns ifou,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone. 

It  was  the  first  direct  rebuff  that  Magdalen 
had   ever    received    from    her    father.     She 


NO  NAME. 


looked  at  bim  •with  an  incredulous  surprise, 
•which  -would  have  been  irresistibly  absurd 
under  less  serious  circumstances. 

Nothing  more  was  said.  For  the  first  time, 
perhaps,  in  their  lives  the  family  sat  round  the 
breaki'ast-table  in  painful  silence.  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  hearty  morning  appetite,  like  his  hearty 
morning  spirits,  ■vvas  gone.  He  absently  broke 
off  some  morsels  cf  dry  toast  from  the  rack 
near  him,  absently  finished  his  first  cup  of  tea, 
then  asked  tor  a  second,  which  be  left  before 
him  untouched. 

"  Norah,"  be  said,  after  an  interval,  "  you 
need  n't  wait  for  me.  Magdalen,  my  dear, 
you  can  go  when  you  like." 

His  daughters  rose  immediately,  and  Miss 
Garlh  considerately  followed  their  example. 
When  an  easy-tempered  man  does  assert  him- 
self in  his  fixmily,  the  rarity  of  the  demonstra- 
tion invariably  has  its  effect ;  and  the  will  of 
that  easy-tempered  man  is  Law. 

"  What  can  have  happened  ?"  whispered 
Norah,  as  they  closed  the  breakfast-room  door 
and  crossed  the  ball. 

"  What  does  papa  mean  by  being  cross  with 
Me '?"  exclaimed  Magdaleu,  chafing  under  a 
sense  of  her  own  injuries. 

"  May  I  ask  what  right  you  had  to  pry  Into 
your  father's  private  affairs?"  retorted  Miss 
Garth. 

"  KIght  ?"  repeated  Magdalen.  "  I  have  no 
secrets  from  papa — what  business  has  papa  to 
have  secrets  from  me  !  I  consider  myself  in- 
sulted." 

•'  If  you  considered  yourself  properly  re- 
proved for  not  minding  your  own  business," 
said  the  plain-spoken  Miss  Garth,  "  you  would 
be  a  tritle  nearer  the  truth.  Ah  !  you  're  like 
all  the  rest  of  the  girls  in  the  present  day. 
Not  one  in  a  hundred  of  you  knows  which 
end  of  her  's  uppermost." 

T])e  three  ladies  entered  the  morning-room; 
and  Magdalen  acknowledged  Miss  Garth's 
reproof  by  banging  the  door. 

Half  an  hour  passed,  and  neither  Mr.  Van- 
stone  nor  his  Avite  left  the  breakfast-room. 
Tiie  servant,  ignorant  of  what  had  happened, 
wont  in  to  clear  the  table — found  bis  master 
and  mistress  seated  close  together  in  deep  con- 
sultation—  and  immediately  went  out  again. 
Another  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  befoi-e 
the  breakfast-room  door  was  opened,  and  the 
private  conference  of  the  husband  and  wife 
came  to  an  end. 

"  I  hear  mamma  in  the  ball,"  said  Norah. 
"  Perhaps  she  Is  coming  to  tell  us  something." 
Mrs.  Vanstone  entered  the  morning-room 
as  her  daughter  spoke.  The  color  was  deeper 
on  her  cheeks,  and  the  brightness  of  half-dried 
tears  glistened  in  her  eyes;  her  step  was  more 
hasty,  all  her  movements  were  quicker  than 
usual. 

"  I  bring  news,  my  dears,  which  will  sur- 
prise you,"  she  said,  addressing  her  daughters. 
"  Your  father  and  I  are  going  to  London  to- 
morrow." 


Magdalen  caught  her  mother  by  the  arm  in 
speechless  astonishment ;  Miss  Gartli  di'opped 
her  work  on  her  lap;  even  tlie  sedate  Norah 
started  to  lier  feet,  and  amazedly  repeated  the      ' 
words,  "  Going  to  London  !" 

"  Without  us  !"  added  Magdalen. 

"  Your  father  and  ]  are  going  alone,"  said 
Mrs.  Vanstone.  "  Perhaps  for  as  long  as 
three  weeks — but  not  longer.  We  are  going," 
— she  hesitated — "  we  are  going  on  important 
family  business.  Don't  bold  me,  Magdalen. 
This  Is  a  sudden  necessity  —  I  have  a  great 
deal  to  do  to-day — many  things  to  sot  in  order 
before  to-morrow.  There,  there,  my  love,  let 
me  go." 

She  drew  her  arm  away,  hastily  kissed  her 
youngest  daughter  on  the  forehead,  and  at 
once  left  the  room  again.  Even  Magdalen 
saw  that  her  mother  was  not  to  be  coaxed 
Into  bearing  or  answei'Ing  any  more  questions. 

The  morning  wore  on,  and  nothing  was 
seen  of  Mr.  Vanstone.  With  the  reckless 
curiosity  of  hej"  age  and  character,  MagdaFeu, 
in  defiance  of  Miss  Garth's  prohibition  and 
her  sister's  remonstrances,  doto'rmined  to  go 
to  the  study,  and  look  for  her  father  there. 
When  she  tried  tlie  door  it  was  locked  on  the 
inside.  Slie  said,  "It  's  only  me,  papa;"  and 
waited  for  the  answ(!r.  "  I  'm  busy  now,  my  ^ 
dear,"  was  the  answer.     "  Don't  disturb  me." 

Mrs.  Vanstone  was,  in  another  way,  equally 
inaccessible.  She  remained  in  her  own  room, 
with 'the  female  servants  about  her,  immersed 
In  endless  preparations  for  the  aj)j)roaching 
departure.  The  servants,  little  used  in  that 
family  to  sudden  resolutions  and  unexpected 
orders,  were  awkward  and  coni'used  in  obey- 
ing directions.  They  ran  from  room  to  room 
unnecessarily,  and  lost  time  and  patience  in 
jostling  each  other  on  the  stairs.  If  a  stranger 
had  entered  tiie  house  that  day,  he  might 
have  imagined  that  an  unexpected  disaster 
had  happened  in  it,  Instead  of  an  unexpected 
necessity  for  a  journey  to  London.  Nothing 
proceeded  In  its  ordinary  routine.  Magdalen, 
who  was  accustomed  to  pass  tlie  morning  at 
the  piano,  wandered  restlessly  about  the  stair- 
cases and  passages,  and  In  and  out  of  doors 
when  there  woti"e  glimpses  of  fine  weather. 
Norah,  whose  fondness  lor  re;vdlng  had  passed 
into  a  family  proverb,  took  up  book  after  book 
from  table  and  shelf,  and  laid  them  down 
again,  in  despair  of  fixing  her  attention. 
Even  Miss  Garth  felt  the  all-pervading  Influ- 
ence of  the  household  disorganization,  and  sat 
alone  by  the  morning-room  fire,  Avith  her  head 
shaking  ominously,  and  her  Avork  laid  aside. 

"  Family  affairs  V"  thought  Miss  Garth,  pon- 
dering over  Mrs.  Vanstone's  vague  explana- 
tory Avords.  "  I  have  lived  tAvelve  years  at 
Combe-Raven,  and  these  are  the  first  family 
affairs  Avbich  have  got  betAveeu  the  parents 
and  the  children  In  all  my  experience.  What 
does  it  mean  V  Change  ?  I  suppose  I  'ra 
cettinji  old.     I  don't  like  change." 


NO  NAME. 


CHAPTER  II.  . 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  Norah  and 
Magdalen  stood  alone  in  the  hall  at  Combe- 
Raven  watching  the  departure  of  tho  carriage 
which  took  their  father  and  mother  to  the 
London  train. 

Up  to  the  last  moment  both  the  sisters  had 
hoped  for  some  explanation  of  that  mysterious 
"famih-  business"  to  whi<h  Mrs.  Vanstone  had 
so  briefly  alluded  on  the  previous  day.  No 
such  explanation  had  been  offered.  Even  the 
agitation  of  the  leave-taking,  under  circum- 
stances entirely  new  in  the  home  experience 
of  the  parents  and  children,  had  not  shaken 
the  resolute  discretion  of  ISIr.  and  Mrs.  Van- 
gtone.  They  had  gone  —  with  the  warmest 
testimonies  of  afiection,  Avith  farewell  cm- 
braces  fervently  reiterated  again  and  again — 
but  without  dropping  one  word,  from  first  to 
last,  of  the  nature  of  their  errand. 

As  the  grating  sound  of  the  carriage-wheels 
ceased  suddenly  at  a  turn  in  the  road,  the 
sisters  looked  one  another  in  the  face ;  each 
feeling  and  each  betraying  in  her  own  wav 
the  dreary  sense  that  she  was  openly  excluded 
for  the  first  time  from  the  confidence  of  her 
parents.  Norah's  customary  reserve  strength- 
ened into  sullen  silence — she  sat  down  in  one 
of  the  hall  chairs  and  looked  out  frownin^lv 
through  Thi>  open  house-door.  Magdalen,  as 
usual  whcTi  her  temper  was  ruffled,  "expressed 
her  dissatisfaction  in  the  plainest  terms.  "  I 
don't  care  who  knows  it  —  I  think  we  are 
both  of  us  shamefully  ill-used  !"  With  those 
words,  the  }oung  lady  followed  her  sister's 
example  by  seating  herself  on  a  hall  chair, 
and  looking  aimlessly  out  through  the  open 
house-door. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  Miss  Garth  en- 
tered tlie  hall  from  the  morning-room.  H(^r 
quick  observation  showed  her  the  necessitv 
for  interfering  to  some  practical  jiurpose,  and 
her  ready  good  sense  at  once  pointed  the  Avay- 

*'  Look  up,  both  of  you,  if  you  ])lease,  and 
listen  to  me,"  said  Miss  (iarth.  "  If  we  are 
all  three  to  be  comfortable  and  happy  to- 
gether, now  we  are  alone,  Ave  must  stick  to 
our  usual  habits  and  go  on  in  our  regular 
way.  There  ''s  the  state  of  things  in  plain 
Avords.  Accept  the  situation,  as  the  French 
gay.  Here  am  I  to  set  you  the  example.  I 
have  just  ordered  an  excellent  dinner  at  the 
cu.stomary  hour.  I  am  going  to  the  medicine- 
chest  next  to  physic  the  kitcJien-maid — an  un- 
Avholesome  girl,  Avhose  faceache  is  all  stomach. 
In  the  mean  time,  Norah,  my  dear,  vou  Avill 
find  your  Avork  and  your  books,  as  usual,  in 
the  library.  Magdalen,  suppose  you  leave  off 
tying  your  handki-rchibf  into  knots,  and  use 
your  fingers  on  the  keys  of  the  piano  instead? 
We  '11  lunch  at  one,  and  take  the  dogs  out 
afterward.  Be  as  brisk  and  cheerful,  both  of 
you,  as  I  am.  Come  !  rouse  up  directly  !  If 
I  see  those  gloomy  faces  any  longer,  as  sure 
2 


as  my  name  's  Garth  I  '11  give  your  mother 
written  Avarning,  and  go  back  to  my  friends 
by  the  mixed  train  at  twelve-forty." 

Concluding  her  address  of  expostulation  in 
those  terms.  Miss  Garth  led  Norah  to  the  li- 
brary door,  pushed  Magdalen  into  the  morn- 
ing-room, and  went  on  her  way  sternly  to  the 
regions  of  the  medicine-t^hest. 

In  this  half-jesting,  half-earnest  manner  she 
was  accustomed  to  maintain  a  sort  of  friendly 
authority  over  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  after 
her  proper  functions  as  coverness  had  neces- 
sarily come  to  an  end.     Norah,  it  is  nec<lless  . 
to  say,  had  long  since  ceased  to  be  her  pupil.  . 
and  Magdalen  had  by  this  time  completed  her 
education.      But   Miss    Garth   had   lived   too  • 
long  and  too  intimately  under  Mr.  Vanstone's 
roof  to  be  parted  with  for  any  purely  formal 
considerations ;    and    the    first   hint  at  going 
aAvay  Avhich  she  had  thought  it  her  duty  to 
drop    was   dismissed    with    such    affectionate 
warmth  of  protest  that  she  ncA'er  repeated  it 
again  except  in  jest.    The  entire  management 
of  the   household  was,  from  that   time  forth, 
left  in  her  hands ;  and  to  those  duties  she  was 
free  to   add    what   companionable    assistance 
she    could   render    to   Norah's   reading,    and 
Avhat  friendly  superintendence  she  could  still 
[•  exercise  over  ^Magdalen's  music.     Such  were 
the  terms  on  which  I\ilss  Garth  was  noAv  a 
j  resident  i»i  ]\tr.  V^anstone's  family. 
I      Toward    the   afternoon    tin;    weather    im- 
proved.    At  half-past  one  the  sun  Avas  shin- 
ing brightly  ;  and  the  ladies  left   the  house, 
accompanied  by  the  dogs,  to  set.  forth  on  their 
Avalk. 

They  crossed  the  stream,  and  ascend(>d  by 
the  little  rocky  pass  to  the  hills  beyond  ;  theu 
diverged  to  the  left,  and  returned  by  a  cross- 
road AvhIch  led  through  the  village  of  Combe- 
Raven. 

As  they  came  In  sight  of  the  first  cottages 
they  passed  a  man  hanging  about  the  road, 
Avho  looked  attentively  first  at  INIagdalen,  then 
at  Norah.  They  merely  observed  that  he  Avas 
short,  that  he  was  dressed  in  l)lack,  and  that 
he  was  a  total  stranger  to  them,  and  continued 
their  homeward  Aralk  without  thinking  more 
about  the  loitei-ing  foot-passenger  whom  they 
had  met  on  their  Avay  back. 

After  they  had  Icfl  the  village  and  had 
entered  the  road  which  led  straight  to  the 
house,  Magdalen  surprised  Miss  Garth  by 
announcing  that  the  stranger  in  black  liad 
turned  after  they  had  passed  him,  and  Ava.-^  , 
noAv  following  them.  "  He  keeps  on  Norah's 
side  of  the  road,"  she  added,  mischleA'ously. 
"  I  'm  not  the  attraction — don't  blame  7ne." 

Whether  the  man  was  really  following  them 
or  not  made  little  difference,  for  they  Avere 
now  close  to  the  house.  As  they  passed 
through  the  lodge-gates  Miss  Garth  looked  ' 
round  and  saAV  that  the  stranger  was  quicken- 
inu;  his  ])ace,  apparently  with  the  jmrpose  of 
entering  into  conversation.  Seeing  this,  she 
at  once  directed  the  young  ladies  to  go  on  to 


i6^ 


NO  NAME. 


the  house   with  the   dogs,  while  she   herself 
waited  for  events  at  the  gate. 

There  was  just  time  to  complete  this  dis- 
creet arrangement  before  the  stranger  reached 
the  lodge.  He  took  oif  his  hat  to  Miss  Garth 
politely  as  she  turned  round.  What  did  he 
look  like  on  the  face  of  him  ?  He  looked  like 
a  clergyman  in  difficulties. 

Taking  his  portrait  from  top  to  toe,  the 
picture  of  him  began  with  a  tall  hat,  broadly 
encircled  by  a  mourning  band  of  crumpled 
crape.  Below  the  hat  was  a  lean,  long,  sallow 
face,  deeply  pitted  with  the  small  pox,  and 
characterized,  very  remarkably,  by  eyes  of 
two  different  colors  —  one  bilious  green,  one 
"bilious  brown,  both  sharply  intelligent.  His 
hair  was  iron-gray,  carefully  brushed  round  at 
the  temples.  His  cheeks  and  chin  were  in 
the  bluest  bloom  of  smooth  shaving ;  his  nose 
was  short  Koman ;  his  lips  long,  thin,  and 
supple,  curled  up  at  the  corners  with  a  mildly- 
humorous  smile.  His  white  cravat  was  high, 
stiff,  and  dingy,  the  collar,  higher,  stiff er,  and 
dingier,  projected  its  rigid  points  on  either 
side  beyond  his  chin.  Lower  down,  the  lithe 
little  figure  of  the  man  was  arrayed  through- 
out in  sober-shabby  black.  His  frock  coat 
was  buttoned  tight  round  the  waist,  and  left 
the  bulge  open  majestically  at  the  chest.  His 
hands  were  covered  with  black  cotton  gloves 
neatly  darned  at  the  fingers;  his  umbrella, 
worn  down  at  the  ferule  to  the  last  quarter  of 
an  inch,  was  carefully  preserved,  neverthe- 
less, in  an  oil-skin  case.  The  front  view  of 
him  was  the  view  in  which  he  looked  oldest ; 
meeting  him  face  to  face,  he  might  have  been 
estimated  at  fifty  or  more.  Walking  behind 
him,  his  back  and  shoulders  were  almost  young 
enough  to  have  passed  for  five  and  thirty. 
His  manners  were  distinguished  by  a  grave 
serenity.  When  he  opened  his  lips,  he  spoke 
in  a  rich  bass  voice,  with  an  easy  flow  of  lan- 
guage, and  a  strict  attention  to  the  elocu- 
tionary claims  of  words  in  more  than  one 
syllable.  Persuasion  distilled  from  his  mildly- 
curling  lips ;  and  shabby  as  he  was,  perennial 
flowers  of  courtesy  bloomed  all  over  him  from 
head  to  foot. 

"  This  is  the  residence  of  Mr.  Yanstone,  I 
believe  '?"  he  began,  with  a  circular  wave  of 
his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  house.  "  Have 
I  the  honor  of  addressing  a  member  of  Mr. 
Vanstone's  family  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  th6  plain-spoken  Miss  Garth. 
"You  are  addressing  Mr.  Vanstone's  gov- 
erness." 

The  persuasive  man  fell  back  a  step  —  ad- 
mired Mr.  Vanstone's  governess  —  advanced 
a  step  again — and  continued  the  conversation. 

"  And  the  two  young  ladies,"  he  went  on, 
"  the  two  young  ladies  who  were  walking  with 
you  are  doubtless  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  ? 
I  recognized  the  darker  of  the  two,  and  the 
elder  as  I  apprehend,  by  her  likeness  to  her  ■ 
handsome  mother.     The  younger  lady^" 

"  You  ^re  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Vanstone, 


I  suppose  ?"  said  Miss  Garth,  interrupting  the 
stranger's  flow  of  language,  which,  all  things 
considered,  was  beginning,  in  her  opinion,  to 
flow  rather  freely.  The  stranger  acknowl- 
edged the  interruption  by  one  of  his  polite 
bows,  and  submerged  Miss  Garth  in  his  next 
sentence  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  The  younger  lady,"  he  proceeded,  "  takes 
after  her  father,  I  presume  ?  I  assure  you 
her  face  struck  me.  Looking  at  it  with  my 
friendly  interest  in  the  family,  I  thought  it 
very  remarkable.  I  said  to  myself — Charming, 
characteristic,  memorable.  Not  like  her  sister, 
not  like  her  mother.  No  doubt  the  image  of 
her  father  ?" 

Once  more  Miss  Garth  attempted  to  stem 
the  man's  flow  of  words.  It  was  plain  thfit  he 
did  not  know  Mr.  Vanstone,  even  by  sight  — 
otherwise  he  would  never  have  committed  the 
error  of  supposing  that  Magdalen  took  after 
her  father.  Did  he  know  Mrs.  Vanstone  any 
better  ?  He  had  left  Miss  Garth's  question  on 
that  point  unanswered.  In  the  name  of  won- 
der, who  was  he  ?  Powers  of  impudence  ! 
what  did  he  want  ? 

"  You  may  be  a  friend  of  the  family,  though 
I  don't  remember  your  face,"  said  Miss  Garth.         . 
"  What  may  your  commands  be,  if  you  please  ?         > 
Did  you  come  here  to  pay  Mrs.  Vanstone  a 
visit  ?" 

"  I  had  anticipated  the  pleasure  of  commu- 
nicating with  Mrs.  Vanstone,"  answered  this 
inveterately  evasive  and  inveterately  civil 
man.     "  How  is  she  ?" 

"  Much  as  usual,"  said  Miss  Garth,  feeling 
her  resources  of  politeness  fast  failing  her. 

"  Is  she  at  home  ?" 

"  No." 

''  Out  for  long?" 

"  Gone  to  London  with  Mr.  Vanstone." 

The  man's  long  face  suddenly  grew  longer. 
His  bilious  brown  eye  looked  disconcerted, 
and  his  bilious  green  eye  followed  its  example. 
His  manner  became  palpably  anxious,  and  his 
choice  of  words  was  more  carefully  selected 
than  ever. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Vanstone's  absence  likely  to  ex- 
tend over  any  very  lengthened  period  ?"  he 
inquired. 

"  It  will  extend  over  three  weeks,"  replied 
Miss  Garth.  "I  think  you  have  now  asked 
me  questions  enough,"  she  went  on,  beginning 
to  let  her  temper  get  the  better  of  her  at  last. 
"  Be  so  good,  if  you  please,  as  to  mention  your 
business  and  your  name.  If  you  have  any 
message  to  leave  for  Mrs.  Vanstone,  I  shall  be 
writing  to  her  by  to-night's  post,  and  I  can 
take  charge  of  it." 

"  A  thousand  thanks !  A  most  valuable  sug- 
gestion. Permit  me  to  take  advantage  of  it 
immediately." 

He  was  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  se- 
verity of  Miss  Garth's  looks  and  language — he 
was  simply  relieved  by  her  proposal,  and  he 
showed  it  with  the  most  engaging  sincerity. 
This  time  his  bilious  green  eye  took  the  initi- 


NO  NAME. 


11 


ative,  and  set  his  bilious  brown  eye  the  exam- 
ple of  recovered  serenity.  His  curling  lij)s 
took  a  new  twist  upward;  he  tucked  his 
umbrella  briskly  under  his  arm,  and  produced 
from  the  breast  of  his  coat  a  large  old-fash- 
ioned black  pocket-book.  From  this  he  took 
a  pencil  and  a  card — hesitated  and  considered 
for  a  moment  —  wrote  rapidly  on  the  card  — 
and  placed  it,  with  the  politest  alacrity,  in 
Miss  Garth's  hand. 

"  I  shall  feel  personally  obliged  if  you  will 
honor  me  by  inclosing  that  card  in  your 
letter,"  he  said.  "  Tliere  is  no  necessity  for 
my  troubling  you  additionally  with  a  message. 
My  name  will  be  quite  sufficient  to  recall  a 
little  family  matter  to  Mrs.  Vanstone  which 
has  no  doubt  escaped  her  memory.  Accept 
my  best  thanks.  This  has  been  a  day  of 
agreeable  surprises  to  me.  I  have  found  the 
country  hereabout  remarkably  pretty ;  I  have 
seen  ]\Irs.  A'^ansfonc's  two  charming  daugh- 
ters ;  1  have  become  acquainted  with  an  hon- 
ored preceptress  in  ^Ir.  Vanstone's  family.  I 
congratulate  myself —  I  apologize  for  occupy- 
ing your  valuable  time  —  I  beg  my  renewed 
acknowlcdgmenls — I  wish  you  good  morning!" 

He  raised  his  tall  hat.  His  brown  eye 
twinkled,  his  green  eye  twinkled,  his  curly 
lips  smiled  sweetly.  In  a  moment  he  turned 
on  liis  heel.  His  youthful  back  appeared  to 
the  best  advantage  ;  his  active  little  legs  took 
him  away  tripjiingly  in  the  direction  of  the 
village.  One,  two,  three  —  and  he  reached 
the  turn  in  the  road.  Four,  five,  six,  and  he 
was  gone. 

Miss  Garth  looked  down  at  the  card  in  her 
hand,  and  looked  up  again  in  blank  astonish- 
ment.. The  name  and  address  of  the  cleri- 
cal-looking stranger  (both  written  in  pencil) 
ran  as  follows :  Captain  Wragge.  Post-office^ 
Bristol. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

When  she  returned  to  the  house.  Miss  Garth 
made  no  attempt  to  conceal  her  unfavorable 
oj)inion  of  the  stranger  in  black.  His  object 
was,  no  doubt,  to  obtain  pecuniary  assistance 
from  Mrs.  Vanstone.  Wliat  the  nature  of  his 
claim  on  her  might  be  seemed  less  intelligi- 
ble—  unless  it  was  the  claim  of  a  poor  rela- 
tion. Ha<l  Mrs.  Vanstone  ever  mentioned,  in 
the  presence  of  her  daughters,  the  name  of 
Captain  Wragge?  Neither  of  them  recol- 
lected to  have  heard  it  before.  Had  ^Irs. 
Vanstone  ever  referred  to  any  poor  relations 
who  were  dependent  on  her?  On  the  con- 
trary, she  had  mentioned  of  late  years  that 
she  doubted  having  any  relations  at  all  who 
were  still  living.  And  yet  Captain  Wragge 
had  plainly  declared  that  the  name  on  his 
card  would  recall  "a  family  matter"  to  Mrs. 
Vanstone's  memory.  What  did  it  mean  ?  A 
false  statement  on  the  stranger's  part,  without 
any  intelligible  reason  for  making  it  ?     Or  a 


second  mystery,  following  close  on  the  heels 
of  the  mysterious  journey  to  London  ? 

All  the  probabilities  seemed  to  point  to 
some  hidden  connection  between  the  "family 
affairs"  which  had  taken  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van- 
stone so  suddenly  from  home,  and  the  "  family 
matter"  associated  with  the  name  of  Captain 
Wragge.  Miss  Garth's  doubts  of  the  day 
before  thronged  back  on  her  mind  as  she 
sealed  her  letter  to  Mrs.  Vanstone,  with  the 
captain's  card  added  by  way  of  inclosure. 

By  return  of  post  the  answer  arrived. 

Always  the  earliest  riser  among  the  ladies 
of  the  house.  Miss  Garth  was  aloue  in  the 
breakfast-room  when  the  letter  was  brought 
in.  Her  first  glance  at  its  contents  convinced 
her  of  the  necessity  of  reading  it  carefully 
through  in  retirement  before  any  eml)arrassing 
(piestions  could  be  put  to  her.  Leaving  a 
message  with  the  servant  re(]uesting  Norah  to 
make  the  tea  that  morning,  she  Avent  up  stairs 
at  once  to  the  solitude  and  security  of  her 
own  room. 

Mrs.  Vanstone's  letter  extended  to  some 
length.  The  first  part  of  it  referred  to  Cap- 
tain Wragge,  and  entered  unreservedly  into 
all  necessary  explanations  relating  to  the  man 
himself,  anil  to  the  motive  which  had  brought 
him  to  Combe-Raven. 

It  appeared  from  Mrs.  Vanstone's  statenient 
that  her  mother  had  been  twice  married.  Her 
mother's  first  husband  had  been  a  certain 
Doctor  Wragge  —  a  widower  with  young  chil- 
dren ;  and  one  of  those  children  was  now  the 
unmilitary-looking  captain,  whose  address  was 
"  Post-office,  Bristol."  IMrs.  Wragge  had  left 
no  family  by  her  first  husband;  ami  had  after- 
ward married  Mrs.  Vanstone's  father.  Of 
that  second  marriage  Mrs.  Vanstone  herself 
was  the  only  issue.  She  had  lost  both  her 
parents  while  she  was  still  a  young  woman ; 
and  in  course  of  years  her  mother's  family 
connections  (who  were  then  her  nearest  sur- 
viving relatives)  had  been  one  after  another 
removed  by  death.  She  was  left,  at  the  pres- 
ent writing,  without  a  relation  in  the  world — 
excepting,  perhaps,  certain  cousiuB  whom  she 
had  never  seen,  and  of  whose  existence  even, 
at  the  present  moment,  she  possessed  no  posi- 
tive knowledge. 

Under  these  circumstances,  what  family 
claim  had  Captain  Wragge  on  Mrs.  Vanstone  ? 

None  whatever.  As  tiie  son  of  her  mother's 
first  husband,  by  that  husband's  first  wife,  not 
even  the  widest'  stretch  of  courtesy  could  have 
included  him  at  any  time  in  the  list  of  Mrs. 
Vanstone's  most  distant  relations.  Well  know- 
in"  this  (the  letter  proceeded  to  say),  he  had 
nevertheless  i)ersisted  in  forcing  himself  upon 
her  as  a  species  of  family  connection  ;  and  she 
had  weakly  .sanctioned  the  intrusion  solely 
from  the  dread  that  he  would  otherwise  intro- 
duce himself  to  Mr.  Vanstone's  notice,  and 
take  unblushing  advantage  of  Mr.  Vanstone's 
generosity.  Shrinking  naturally  from  allow- 
ing her  husband  to  be  annoyed,  and  probably 


12 


NO  NAME. 


cheated  as  well,  by  any  person  who  claimed, 
however  preposterously,  a  family  connection 
with  herself,  it  had  been  her  practice,  for 
many  years  past,  to  assist  the  captain  from 
her  own  purse,  on  the  condition  that  he  should 
never  come  near  the  house,  and  that  he  should 
not  presume  to  make  any  appHcation  what- 
ever to  Mr.  Vanstoue. 

Readily  admitting  the  imprudence  of  this 
course,  Mrs.  Vanstone  further  explained  that 
she  had  perhaps  been  the  more  inclined  to 
adopt  it,  through  having  been  always  accus- 
tomed, in  her  early  days,  to  see  the  captain 
living  now  upon  one  member  and  now  upon 
another  of  her  mother's  family.  Possessed  of 
abilities  which  might  have  raised  him  to  dis- 
tinction in  almost  any  career  that  he  could 
have  chosen,  he  had  nevertheless,  from  his 
youth  ixpward,  been  a  disgrace  to  all  his  rela- 
tives. He  had  been  expelled  the  militia  regi- 
•  ment  in  which  he  once  held  a  commission. 
He  had  tried  one  employment  after  another, 
and  had  discreditably  failed  in  all.  He  had 
lived  on  his  wits  in  the  lowest  and  basest 
meaning  of  the  plirase.  He  had  married  a 
poor,  ignorant  woman,  who  had  served  as  a 
waitress  at  some  low  eating-house,  who  had 
unexpectedly  come  into  a  little  money,  and 
whose  small  inheritance  he  had  mercilessly 
squandered  to  the  last  farthing.  In  plain 
terms,  he  was  an  incorrigible  scoundrel ;  and 
he  had  now  added  one  more  to  the  list  of  his 
many  misdemeanors,  by  impudently  breaking 
the  conditions  on  which  Mrs.  Vanstone  had 
hitherto  assisted  him.  She  had  written  at 
once  to  the  address  indicated  on  his  card,  in 
such  terms  and  to  such  purpose  as  would  pre- 
vent him,  she  hoped  and  believed,  from  ever 
venturing  near  the  house  again.  Such  were 
the  terms  in  which  Mrs.  Vanstone  concluded 
that  first  part  of  her  letter  which  referred 
exclusively  to  Captain  Wragge. 

Although  the  statement  thus  presented  im- 
plied a  weakness  in  Mrs.  Vanstone's  character 
which  Miss  Garth,  after  many  years  of  inti- 
.  mate  experience,  had  never  detected,  she  ac- 
cepted the  explanation  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
receiving  it  all  the  more  readily,  inasmuch  as 
it  might,  without  impropriety,  be  communi- 
cated in  substance  to  appease  the  irritated 
curiosity  of  the  two  young  ladies.  For  this 
reason  especially,  she  perused  the  first  half  of 
the  letter  with  an  agreeable  sense  of  relief 
Far  different  was  the  impression  produced  on 
her  when  she  advanced  to  the  second  half, 
and  when  she  had  read  it  to  the  end. 

The  second  part  of  the  letter  was  devoted 
to  the  subject  of  the  journey  to  London. 

Mrs.  Vanstone  began  by  referring  to  the 
long  and  intimate  friendship  which  had  ex- 
isted between  Miss  Garth  and  herself.  She 
now  felt  it  due  to  that  friendship  to  explain  con- 
fidentially the  motive  which  had  induced  her 
to  leave  home  with  her  husband.  Miss  Garth 
had  delicately  refrained  from  showing  it,  but 
,  she  must  naturally  have  felt,  and  must  still  be 


feeling,  great  surprise  at  the  mystery  in  which 
their  departure  had  been  involved ;  and  she 
must  doubtless  have  asked  herself  why  Mrs. 
Vanstone  should  have  been  associated  with 
family  affairs  which  (in  her  independent  ])osi- 
tion  as  to  relatives)  must  necessarily  concern 
Mr.  Vanstone  alone. 

Without  touching  on  those  affairs,  which  it 
was  neither  desirable  nor  necessary  to  do, 
Mrs.  Vanstone  then  proceeded  to  say  that  she 
would  at  once  set  all  Miss  Garth's  doubts  at 
rest,  so  far  as  they  related  to  herself,  by  one 
plain  acknowledgment.  Her  object  in  accom- 
panying her  husband  to  London  was  to  see  a 
certain  celebrated  physician,  and  to  consult 
him  privately  upon  a  very  delicate  and  anx- 
ious matter  connected  with  the  state  of  her 
health.  In  plainer  terms  still,  this  anxious 
matter  meant  nothing  less  than  the  possibility 
that  she  might  again  become  a  mother. 

When  the  doubt  had  first  suggested  itself 
she  had  treated  it  as  a  mere  delusion.  The 
long  interval  that  had  elapsed  since  the  birth 
of  her  last  child ;  the  serious  illness  which  had 
afflicted  her  after  the  death  of  that  child  in 
infancy ;  the  time  of  life  at  which  she  had  now 
arrived — all  inclined  her  to  dismiss  the  idea  as 
soon  as  it  arose  in  her  mind.  It  had  returned 
again  and  again  in  spite  of  her.  She  had  felt 
the  necessity  of  consulting  the  highest  medical 
authority;  and  had  shrunk,  at  the  same  time, 
from  alarming  her  daughters  by  summoning  a 
London  physician  to  the  house.  The  medical 
opinion,  sought  under  the  circumstances  al- 
ready mentioned,  had  now  been  obtained. 
Her  doubt  was  confirmed  as  a  certainty ;  and 
the  result,  which  might  be  expected  to  take 
place  toward  the  end  of  summer,  was,  at  her 
age  and  with  her  constitutional  peculiarities, 
a  subject  for  serious  future  anxiety,  to  say  the 
least  of  it.  The  physician  had  done  his  best 
to  encourage  her ;  but  she  had  understood  the 
drift  of  his  questions  more  clearly  than  he 
supposed,  and  she  knew  that  he  looked  to  ths 
future  with  more  than  ordinary  doubt. 

Having  disclosed  these  particulars,  Mrs. 
Vanstone  requested  that  they  might  be  kept 
a  secret  between  her  correspondent  and  her- 
self She  had  felt  unwilling  to  mention  her 
suspicions  to  Miss  Garth  until  those  suspicions 
had  been  confirmed  —  and  she  now  recoiled, 
with  even  greater  reluctance,  from  allowing 
her  daughters  to  be  in  any  way  alarmed  about 
her.  It  would  be  best  to  dismiss  the  subject 
for  the  present,  and  to  wait  hopefully  till  the 
summer  came.  In  the  mean  time  they  would 
all,  she  trusted,  be  happily  reunited  on  the 
twenty-third  of  the  month,  which  Mr.  Van- 
stone had  fixed  on  as  the  day  for  their  return. 
With  this  intimation,  and  with  the  customary 
messages,  the  letter  abruptly  and  confusedly 
came  to  an  end. 

For  the  first  few  minutes  a  natural  sympa- 
thy for  Mrs.  Vanstone  was  the  only  feeling  of 
which  Miss  Garth  was  conscious  after  she  had 


NO  NAME. 


IS 


laid  the  letter  down.  Ere  lon<T,  however, 
there  rose  obscurely  on  her  mind  a  doubt 
which  perplexed  and  distressed  her.  Was 
the  explanation  which  she  had  just  read  really 
as  satisfactory  and  as  complete  as  it  jirofessed 
to  be  ?  Testing  it  plainly  by  facts,  surely  not. 
On  the  morning  of  her  departui-e  IMrs. 
Vanstone  had  unquestionably  left  the  house 
in  good  spirits.  At  her  age,  and  in  her  state 
of  health,  were  good  spirits  compatible  with 
such  an  errand  to  a  physician  as  the  errand 
on  which  she  was  bent?  Then,  again,  had 
that  letter  from  Now  Orleans,  which  had  ne- 
cessitated jMr.  Vanstone's  departure,  no  share 
In  occasioning  his  wife's  departure  as  well  ? 
^VIly  otherwise  had  she  looked  up  so  eagerly 
the  moment  her  daughter  mentioned  the  post- 
mark ?  Granting  the  avowed  motive  for  her 
journey — did  not  her  manner,  on  the  morning 
when  the  letter  was  opened,  and  again  on  the 
morning  of  departure,  suggest  the  existence 
of  some  other  motive  which  her  letter  kept 
concealed  ? 

If  it  was  so,  the  conclusion  that  followed 
was  a  very  disti-essing  one.  ]\Irs.  Vanstone, 
feeling  what  was  due  to  her  long  friendship 
with  Miss  (xarth,  had  apparently  placed  the 
fullest  confidence  in  her  on  one  subject,  by 
way  of  unsuspiciously  maintaining  the  strictest 
reserve  toward  her  on  another.  Naturally 
frank  and  straightforward  in  all  her  own  deal- 
ings, Miss  Garth  shrank  from  plainly  pursuing 
her  doubts  to  this  result:  a  want  of  loyalty 
toward  her  tried  and  valued  friend  seemed 
implied  in  the  mere  dawning  of  it  on  her 
mind. 

She  locked  up  the  letter  in  her  desk  ;  roused 
herself  resolutely  to  attend  to  the  passing  in- 
terests of  the  day ;  and  went  down  stairs 
again  to  the  breakfast-room.  Amidst  many 
uncertainties,  this  at  least  was  clear :  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Vanstone  were  coming  back  on  the 
twenty-third  of  the  month.  Who  could  say 
■what  new  revelations  might  not  come  back 
with  them  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

No  new  revelations  came  back  with  them — 
no  anticipations  associated  with  their  return 
were  realized.  On  the  one  forbidden  subject 
of  their  errand  in  Ivondon  there  was  no  mov- 
ing either  the  master  or  the  mistress  of  the 
house.  Whatever  their  object  might  have 
been,  they  had  to  all  appearance  successfully 
accomplished  it  —  (or  they  both  returned  in 
perfect  possession  of  their  everyday  looks  aiul 
manners.  Mrs.  Vanstone's  spirits  had  sub- 
sided to  their  natural  quiet  level ;  Mr.  Van- 
stone's imperturbable  cheerfulness  sat  as  easily 
and  indolently  on  him  as  usual.  This  was  the 
one  noticeable  result  of  their  journey  —  this, 
and  no  more.  Had  the  household  revolution 
run  its  course  already  ?  Was  the  secret,  thus 
far  hidden  impenetrably,  hidden  for  ever  ? 


Nothing  in  this  world  is  hidden  for  ever. 
The  gold,  which  has  lain  for  centuries  unsus- 
pected in  the  ground,  reveals  itself  one  day 
on  the  surface.  Sand  turns  traitor,  and  be- 
trays the  footstep  that  has  passed  over  it; 
water  gives  back  to  the  telltale  surface  the 
body  that  has  been  drowned.  Fire  itself 
leaves  the  confession,  in  ashes,  of  the  substance 
consumed  in  it.  Ilate  breaks  its  prison-secrecy 
in  the  thoughts,  through  the  doorway  of  the 
eyes;  and  Love  finds  the  Judas  who  betrays 
it  by  a  kiss.  Look  where  we  will,  the  inevi- 
table law  of  revelation  is  one  of  the  laws  of 
nature:  the  lasting  preservation  of  a  secret  is 
a  miracle  which  the  world  has  never  yet  seen. 

How  was  the  secret  now  hidden  in  the 
household  at  Combe-Ilaven  doomed  to  disclose 
itself?  Through  what  coming  event  in  the 
daily  lives  of  the  father,  the  mother,  and  the 
daughters  was  the  law  of  revelation  destined 
to  break  the  fatal  way  to  discovery  ?  The 
way  opened  (unseen  by  the  parents,  and  un- 
suspected by  the  children)  through  the  first 
event  that  happened  after  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van- 
stone's return  —  an  event  which  presented, 
on  the  surl'ace  of  it,  no  interest  of  greater  im- 
portance than  the  trivial  social  ceremony  of  a 
morning  call. 

Three  days  after  the  master  and  mistress  of 
Combe-Raven  had  come  back  the.  female  mem- 
bers of  the,  family  happened  to  be  assembled 
together  in  the  morning-room.  The  view 
from  the  windows  looked  over  the  flower- 
garden  and  shrubbery ;  this  last  being  pro- 
tected at  its  outward  extremity  by  a  fence, 
and  approached  from  the  lane  beyond  by  a 
wicket-gate.  During  an  interval  in  the  con- 
versation the  attention  of  the  ladies  was  sud- 
denly attracted  to  this  gate  by  the  sharp  sound 
of  the  iron  latch  falling  in  its  socket.  Some 
one  had  entered  the  shrubbery  irom  the  lane; 
and  Magdalen  at  once  placed  herself  at  the 
window  to  catch  the  first  sight  of  the  visitor 
through  the  trees. 

After  a  few  minutes  the  figure  of  a  gentle- 
man became  visible  at  the  point  where  the 
shrubbery  path  joined  the  winding  garden- 
walk  which  led  to  the  house.  Magdalen  looked 
at  him  attentively,  without  apjicaring,  at  first, 
to  know  who  he  was.  As  lu;  came  nearer, 
however,  she  started  in  astonishment,  and, 
turning  quickly  to  her  mother  and  sister,  pro- 
claimed the  gentleman  in  the  garden  to  be  no 
other  than  "Mr.  Francis  Clare." 

The  visitor  thus  announced  was  the  son  of 
Mr.  Vanstone's  oldest  associate  and  nearest 
neighbor. 

Mr.  Clare  the  elder  inhabited  an  unpretend- 
ing little  cottage  situated  just  outside  the 
shrubbery  fence  which  marked  the  limit  of  the 
Combe-liavcn  grounds.  Belonging  to  the 
younger  branch  of  a  family  of  great  antiquity, 
the  one  inheritance  of  importance  that  he  had 
derived  from  his  ancestors  was  the  possession 
of  a  magnificent  library,  which  not  only  filled 


14 


NO  NAME. 


all  the  rooms  in  his  modest  little  dwelling,  but 
lined  the  staircases  and  passages  as  well.  Mr. 
Clare's  books  represented  the  one  important 
interest  of  Mr.  Clare's  life.  He  had  been  a 
widower  for  many  years  past,  and  made  no 
secret  of  his  philosophical  resignation  to  the 
loss  of  his  wife.  As  a  father,  he  regarded  his 
family  of  three  sons  in  the  light  of  a  necessary 
domestic  evil,  which  perpetually  threatened 
the  sanctity  of  his  study  and  the  safety  of  his 
books.  When  the  boys  went  to  school,  Mr. 
Clare  said  "good-by"  to  them,  and  "thank 
God"  to  himself.  As  for  his  small  income, 
and  his  still  smaller  domestic  establisinnent,  he 
looked  at  them  both  from  the  same  satirically 
indifferent  point  of  view.  He  called  himself 
a  pauper  with  a  pedigree.  He  abandoned  the 
entire  direction  of  his  household  to  the  slat- 
ternly old  woman  who  was  his  only  servant, 
on  the  condition  that  she  was  never  to  venture 
near  bis  books  with  a  duster  in  her  hand  from 
one  year's  end  to  the  other.  His  favorite 
poets  were  Horace  and  Pope;  his  chosen  phi- 
losophers, Hobbes  and  Voltaire.  He  took  his 
exercise  and  his  fresh  air  under  protest ;  and 
always  walked  the  same  distance  to  a  yard,  on 
the  ugliest  high-road  in  'the  neighborhood. 
He  Avas  crooked  of  back,  and  quick  of  tem- 
per. He  could  digest  radishes,  and  sleep  after 
green  tea.  His  views  of  human  nature  Avei-e 
the  views  of  Diogenes,  tempered  by  Roche- 
foucault ;  his  personal  habits  were  slovenly  in 
the  last  degree ;  and  his  favorite  boast  was, 
that  he  had  outlived  all  human  prejudices. 

Such  was  this  singular  man  in  his  more  su- 
perficial aspects.  What  nobler  qualities  he 
might  possess  below  the  surface  no  one  had 
ever  discovered.  Mr.  Vanstone,  it  is  true, 
stoutly  asserted  that  "  Mr.  Clare's  worst  side 
was  his  outside;"  but  in  this  expression  of 
opinion  he  stood  alone  among  his  neighbors. 
The  association  between  these  two  widely- 
dissimilar  men  had  lasted  for  many  years,  and 
was  almost  close  enough  to  be  called  a  friend-  I 
ship.  They  had  acquired  a  habit  of  meeting 
to  smoke  together  on  certain  evenings  in  the 
week  in  the  cynic-philosopher's  study,  and  of 
there  disputing  on  every  imaginable  subject — 
Mr.  Vanstone  flourishing  the  stout  cudgels  of 
assertion,  and  Mr.  Clare  meeting  him  with  the 
keen-edged  tools  of  sophistry.  They  generally 
quarreled  at  night,  and  met  on  the  neutral 
ground  of  the  shrubbery  to  be  reconciled 
together  the  next  morning.  The  bond  of  in- 
tercourse thus  curiously  established  between 
them  was  strengthened  on  Mr.  Vanstone's 
side  by  a  hearty  interest  in  his  neighbor's 
three  sons — an  interest  by  which  those  sons 
benefited  all  the  more  importantly,  seeing 
that  one  of  the  prejudices  which  their  father 
Had  outlived  was  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  his 
own  children. 

"  I  look  at  those  boys,"  the  philosopher  was 
accustomed  to  say,  "with  a  perfectly  impartial 
eye ;  I  dismiss  the  unimportant  accident  of 
their  birth  from  all  consideration,  and  I  find 


them  below  the  average  in  every  respect.  The 
only  excuse  which  a  poor  gentleman  has  for 
presuming  to  exist  in  the  nineteenth  century 
is  the  excuse  of  extraordinary  ability.  My 
boys  have  been  addle-headed  from  infancy.  If 
I  had  any  capital  to  give  them,  I  should  make 
Frank  a  butcher,  Cecil  a  baker,  and  Arthur  a 
grocer — those  being  the  only  human  voca- 
tions I  know  of  which  are  certain  to  be  always 
in  request.  As  it  is,  I  have  no  money  to  help 
them  with,  and  they  have  no  brains  to  help 
themselves.  They  appear  to  me  to  be  three 
human  superfluities  in  dirty  jackets  and  noisy 
boots;  and,  unless  they  clear  themselves  off 
the  community  by  running  away,  I  don't  my- 
self profess  to  see  what  is  to  be  done  with 
them." 

Fortunately  for  the  boys,  Mr.  Vanstone's 
views  were  still  fast  imprisoned  in  the  ordinary 
prejudices.  At  his  intercession,  and  through 
his  influence,  Frank,  Cecil,  and  Arthur  were 
received  on  the  foundation  of  a  well-reputed 
grammar  school.  In  holiday  time  they  were 
mercifully  allowed  the  run  of  Mr.  Vanstone's 
paddock,  and  were  humanized  and  refined  by 
association  indoors  with  Mrs.  Vanstone  and 
her  daughters.  On  these  occasions  Mr.  Clare 
used  sometimes  to  walk  aci'oss  from  his  cot^ 
tage  (in  his  dressing-gown  and  slippers),  and 
look  at  the  boys  disparagingly,  through  the  win- 
dow or  over  the  fence,  as  if  they  were  three 
wild  animals  whom  his  neighbor  was  attempt- 
ing to  tame.  "  You  and  your  wife  are  excel- 
lent people,"  he  used  to  say  to  Mr.  Vanstone. 
"  I  respect  your  honest  prejudices  in  favor  of 
these  boys  of  mine  with  all  my  heart.  But 
you  are  so  wrong  about  them  —  you  are,  in- 
deed I  I  wish  to  give  no  offense ;  I  speak  quite 
impartially ;  but  mark  my  words,  Vanstone  — 
they  '11  all  three  turn  out  ill,  in  spite  of  every- 
thing you  can  do  for  them." 

In  later  years,  when  Frank  had  reached  the 
age  of  seventeen,  the  same  curious  shifting  of 
the  relative  positions  of  parent  and  friend 
between  the  two  neighbors  was  exemplified 
more  absurdly  than  ever.  A  civil  engineer 
in  the  north  of  England,  who  owed  certain 
obligations  to  Mr.  Vanstone,  expressed  his 
willingness  to  take  Frank  under  superintend- 
ence on  terms  of  the  most  favorable  kind. 
When  this  proposal  was  received,  Mr.  Clare, 
as  usual,  first  shifted  his  own  character  as 
Frank's  father  on  Mr.  Vanstone's  shoulders — 
and  then  moderated  his  neighbor's  parental 
enthusiasm  from  the  point  of  view  of  an  im- 
partial spectator. 

"It  's  the  finest  chance  for  Frank  that 
could  possibly  have  happened !"  cried  Mr. 
Vanstone,  in  a  glow  of  fatherly  enthusiasm. 

"  My  good  fellow,  he  won't  take  it,"  retorted 
Mr.  Clare,  with  the  icy  composure  of  a  disin- 
terested friend. 

"  But  he  shall  take  it,"  persisted  Mr.  Van- 
stone. 

"  Say  he  shall  have  a  mathematical  head," 
rejoined  Mr.  Clare;  "say  he  shall  possess  in- 


:S0  NAME. 


15 


dustry,  ambition,  ami  firmnes?  of  purpose! 
Pooh!  pooh!  you  don't  look  at  him  with  my 
impartial  eyes.  I  say,  No  mathematics,  no 
industry,  no  ambition,  no  firmness  of  purpose. 
Franic  "  is  a  compound  of  negatives  —  and 
there  they  are." 

"  Hans;  your  negatives  !"  shouted  Mr.  Van- 
stone.  "  I  don't  care  a  rusli  for  negatives,  or 
aflirniatives  either.  Frank  shall  have  this 
splendid  chance;  and  I  '11  lay  yon  any  wager 
you  like  he  makes  the  best  of  it." 

"I  am  not  rich  enough  to  lay  wages  usual- 
ly," replied  Mr.  Clare ;""  but  I  think  I  have 
got  a  guinea  about  tlie  house  somewhere;  and 
I  '11  lay  you  that  guinea  Frank  comes  back  on 
our  hands  like  a  bad  shilling." 

''Done!"  said  Mr.  Vanstonc.  "No:  stop  a 
minute  !  I  won't  do  the  lad's  character  the  in- 
justice of  backing  it  at  even  money.  I  '11  lay 
you  five  to  one  Frank  turns  up  trumps  in  this 
business !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self for  talking  of  him  as  you  do.  What  sort 
of  hocus-pocus  you  bring  it  about  by  1  don't 
pretend  to  know ;  but  you  always  end  in 
making  me  take  his  part,  as  if  I  was  his 
father  instead  of  you.  Ah,  yes!  give  yon 
time,  and  you  '11  defend  yourself.  I  won't 
give  you  time;  I  won't  have  any  of  your  spe- 
cial pleading.  Black  's  white,  according  to 
you.  I  don't  care :  it  's  black,  for  all  that. 
You  may  talk  nineteen  to  the  dozen  —  I  shall 
write  to  my  friend,  and  say  Yes,  in  Frank's 
Interests,  by  to-day's  post." 

Such  were  the  circumstances  under  which 
Mr.  Francis  Clare  departed  for  the  north  of 
England,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  to  start  in 
life  as  a  civil  engineer. 

From  time  to  time  Mr.  Vanstone's  friend 
communicated  with  him  on  the  subject  of  the 
new  pupil.  Frank  was  praised  as  a  quiet, 
gentlemanlike,  interesting  lad  —  but  he  was 
also  reported  to  be  rather  slow  at  acquiring 
the  rudiments  of  engineering  seicace.  Other 
letters,  later  in  date,  descril)ed  him  as  a  little 
too  ready  to  despond  about  himself;  as  having 
been  sent  away,  on  that  account,  to  some  new 
railway  works,  to  see  if  change  of  .scene  would 
rouse  him;  and  as  having  benefited  in  every 
respect  by  the  experiment  —  except  perhaps 
in  regard  to  his  professional  studies,  which  still 
a<lvanced  but  slowly.  Subsequent  communi- 
cations announced  his  departure,  under  care 
of  a  trustworthy  foreman,  for  some  public 
works  in  Belgium;  toucdied  on  the  general 
benefit  he  ai)peared  to  derive  from  ihis  new 
change ;  praised  his  excellent  maiineTS  and 
address,  wiiich  were  of  great  assistance  in 
facilitating  business  communications  with  the 
foreigners  —  and  passed  over  in  ominous 
silence  the  main  question  of  his  actual  prog- 
ress in  the  ac<piirement  of  knowledge,  "rhese 
reports,  and  many  others  which  resembled 
them,  were  all  conscientiously  presented  by 
Frank's  friend  to  the  attention  of  Frank's 
father.  On  each  occasion  Mr.  Clare  exulted 
over  Mr.  Vanstone,  and  ^Ir.  Vanstone  quar- 


reled with  Mr.  Clare.  "One  of  these  days 
you  '11  wish  you  had  n't  laid  that  w;iger,"  said 
the  cynic-pliilosopher.  "  One  of  these  days  I 
shall  have  the  blessed  satisfaction  of  pocketing 
your  guinea,"  cried  the  sanguine  friend.  Two 
years  had  been  passed  since  Frank's  depart- 
ure. In  one  year  more  results  asserted  tlicm- 
selves,  and  settled  the  question. 

Two  ttays  after  Mr.  \'anstone's  return  from 
London  he  was  called  away  from  the  break- 
fast-table before  he  had  ibund  time  enough  to 
look  over  Ids  letters  delivered  by  the  morn- 
ing's post.  Thrusting  them  into  one  of  the 
pockets  of  his  shooting  jacket,  he  took  the 
letters  out  again  at  one  grasp,  to  read  them 
when  occasion  served,  later  in  the  day.  The 
grasp  included  the  whole  correspondence,  with 
one  excej)tion — tliat  exception  being  a  fijiffl 
report  from  the  civil  engineer,  which  notified 
the  termination  of  tiie  connection  bcLtveen 
his  pupil  and  himself,  and  the  immediate  re- 
turn of  Frank  to  his  fatlier's  house. 

While  this  important  announcement  lay 
unsuspected  in  Mr.  Vanstone's  pocket,  the  ob- 
ject of  it  was  traveling  home  as  fast  as  rail- 
ways could  take  him.  At  half-past  ten  at 
night,  while  ^Ir.  Clare  was  sitting  in  .studious 
solitude  over  his  books  and  green  tea,  with 
his  favorite  black  eat  to  keep  him  company, 
he  heard  footsteps  in  the  passage — the  door 
opened  —  and  Frank  stood  before  him. 

Ordinary  men  would  have  been  astonished. 
But  the  philosopher's  composure  was  not  to  be 
shaken  by  any  such  trifie  as  the  unex])ected 
return  of  his  eldest  son.  lie  could  not  have 
looked  up  more  calmly  from  his  learned  volume 
if  Frank  had  been  absent  for  three  minutes 
instead  of  three  years. 

"  Exactly  what  I  predicted,"  said  Mr.  Clare. 
'  Don't  interruj)t  me  by  making  exj)lanations; 
and  don't  frighten  the  cat.  If  there  is  any- 
thing to  eat  in  the  kitchen,  get  it  and  go  to 
bed.  You  can  walk  over  to  Combe-Raven 
to-morrow,  and  give  this  message  from  me  to 
]\lr.  Vanstone  :  "  '  Father's  comjiliments,  Sir, 
and  I  have  come  back  on  your  hands  like  a  bad 
shilling,  as  he  always  said  I  should.  He  keeps 
his  own  guinea,  aiid  takes  your  five  ;  and.  he 
hopes  you  '11  mind  what  he  says  to  you  another 
time.'  "  That  is  the  message.  Shut  the  door 
after  you.     Good  night." 

Under  these  unfavorable  auspices  Mr.  Fran- 
cis Clare  made  his  appearance  the  next  morn- 
ing in  the  grounds  at  Combe-Raven ;  and, 
something  doubtful  of  the  reception  that  might 
await  him,  slowly  approached  the  precincts  of 
the  house. 

It  was  not  wonderful  that  Magdalen  should 
have  failed  to  recognize  him  when  he  first  ap- 
peared in  view,  fie  had  gone  away  a  back- 
ward lad  of  seventeen  ;  he  returned  a  young 
man  of  twenty.  Ilia  slim  figure  had  now 
acquired  strength  and  grace,  and  had  increased 
in  stature  to  the  medium  height.  The  .small, 
regular  features,  which  he  was  suppo.sed  to 
have  inherited  from  his  mother,  were  rounded 


16 


NO  NAME. 


and  filled  out,  -witliout  having  lost  their  re- 
markable delicacy  of  form.  His  beard  was 
still  in  its  infancy,  and  nascent  lines  of  whisker 
traced  their  modest  way  sparely  down  his 
cheeks.  Ilis  gentle,  wandering  brown  eyes 
would  have  looked  to  better  advantage  in  a 
woman's  face — they  wanted  spirit  and  firmness 
to  fit  them  for  the  face  of  a  man.  Ilis  hands 
had  the  same  wandering  habit  as  his  eyes;  they 
were  constantly  changing  from  one  position  to 
another,  constantly  twisting  and  turning  any 
little  stray  thing  they  could  y)ick  up.  He  was 
undeniably  handsome,  graceful,  well-b7-ed  ;  but 
no  close  observer  could  look  at  him  without 
suspecting  that  the  stout  old  family  stock  had 
begun  to  wear  out  in  the  later  generations, 
and  that  Mr.  Francis  Clare  had  more  in  him 
of  the  shadow  of  his  ancestors  than  of  the 
substance. 

When  the  astonishment  caused  by  his  ap- 
pearance had  partially  subsided  a  search  was 
instituted  for  the  missing  report.  It  was  found 
in  the  remotest  recesses  of  Mr.  Vanstone's 
capacious  pocket,  and  was  read  by  that  gentle- 
man on  the  spot. 

The  plain  facts,  as  stated  by  the  engineer, 
were  briefly  these.  Frank  was  not  possessed 
of  the  necessary  abilities  to  fit  him  for  his  new 
calling,  and  it  was  useless  to  M'aste  time  by 
keeijing  him  any  longer  in  an  employment  for 
which  he  had  no  vocation.  This,  after  three 
years'  trial,  being  the  conviction  on  both  sides, 
the  master  had  thought  it  the  most  straight- 
forward coui'se  for  the  pupil  to  go  home,  and 
candidly  jjlace  results  before  his  father  and  his 
friends.  In  some  other  pursuit  for  which  he 
was  more  fit,  and  in  which  he  could  feel  an 
interest,  he  would  no  doubt  display  the  indus- 
try and  perseverance  which  he  had  been  too 
much  discouraged  to  practice  in  the  profession 
that  he  had  now  abandoned.  Personally,  he 
was  liked  by  all  who  knew  him ;  and  his  future 
prosporitv  was  heartily  desired  by  the  many 
friends  whom  he  had  made  in  the  North.  Sucli 
was  the  substance  of  the  report,  and  so  it  came 
to  an  end. 

Many  men  would  have  thought  the  engi- 
neer's statement  rather  too  carefully  worded ; 
and,  suspecting  him  of  trying  to  make  the  best 
of  a  bad  case,  would  have  entertained  serious 
doubts  on  the  subject  of  Frank's  future.  Mr. 
Vanstone  was  too  easy -tempered  and  sanguine  ; 
and  too  anxious  as  well,  not  to  yield  his  old 
antagonist  an  inch  more  ground  than  he  could 
help— to  look  at  tlie  letter  from  any  such  un- 
favorable point  of  view.  Was  it  Frank's  fault 
if  he  had  not  got  the  stuff  in  him  that  engi- 
neers were  made  of?  Did  no  other  young  men 
ever  begin  life  with  a  false  start?  Plenty 
began  in  that  way,  and  got  over  it,  and  did 
wonders  afterward.  With  these  commentaries 
on  the  letter  the  kind-'iearted  gentleman  patted 
Frank  on  the  sijioulder.  "  Cheer  up,  my  lad !" 
said  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  We  will  be  even  with 
your  father  one  of  these  days,  though  he  has 
won  the  watrer  this  time  !" 


The  example  thus  set  by  the  master  of  the 
house  was  followed  at  once  lay  the  family — with 
the  solitary  exception  of  Norah,  whose  incura- 
ble formality  and  reserve  expressed  themselves, 
not  too  graciously,  in  her  distant  manner  to- 
ward the  visitor.  The  rest,  led  by  Magdalen 
(who  had  been  Frank's  favorite  play-fellow  in 
past  times),  glided  back  into  their  old  easy 
habits  with  him  Avithout  an  elFort.  He  was 
"Fi'ank"  with  all  of  them  but  Norah,  who 
persisted  in  addressing  him  as  "Mr.  Clare." 
Even  the  account  he  was  now  encouraged  to 
give  of  the  reception  accorded  to  him  by  his 
father  on  the  previous  night  failed  to  disturb 
Norah's  gravity.  She  sat  with  her  dark  hand- 
some face  steadily  averted,  her  eyes  cast  down, 
and  the  rich  color  in  her  cheeks  warmer  and 
deeper  than  usual.  All  the  rest.  Miss  Garth 
included,  found  old  Mr.  Clare's  speech  of  wel- 
come to  his  son  quite  irresistible.  The  noise 
and  merriment  were  at  their  height  when  the 
servant  came  in  and  struck  the  whole  party 
dumb  by  the  announcement  of  visitors  in  the 
drawing-room.  "  Mr.  INIarrable,  Mrs.  Marra- 
ble,  and  Miss  Marrable  ;  Evergreen  Lodge, 
Clifton." 

Norah  rose  as  readilj^  as  if  the  new  arrivals 
had  been  a  relief  to  her  mind.  j\Irs.  Vanstone 
was  the  next  to  leave  her  chair.  These  two 
went  away  first  to  receive  the  visitors.  Mag- 
dalen, who  preferred  the  society  of  her  father 
and  Frank,  pleaded  hard  to  be  left  behind;  but 
Miss  Garth,  after  granting  five  minutes'  grace, 
took  her  into  custody  and  marched  her  out  of 
the  room.     Frank  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone,  detaining  him. 
"  Don't  go.  These  people  won't  stop  long. 
Mr.  Marrable  's  a  merchant  at  Bristol.  I  've 
met  him  once  or  twice  when  the  girls  forced 
me  to  take  them  to  parties  at  Clitton.  Mere 
accjuaintances,  nothing  more.  Come  and 
smoke  a  cigar  in  the  green-house.  Hang  all 
visitors — they  worry  one's  lifi^  out.  I  '11  appear 
at  the  last  moment  with  an  apology ;  and  you 
shair  follow  me  at  a  safe  distance,  and  be  a 
proof  that  I  was  really  engaged." 

Proposing  this  ingenious  stratagem  in  a  con- 
fidential whisper,  Mr.  Vanstone  took  Frank's 
arm  and  led  him  round  the  house  by  the  back 
way.  The  first  ten  minutes  of  seclusion  in  the 
conservatory  passed  without  events  of  any  kind. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  a  fiying  figure  in  bright 
garments  flashed  upon  the  two  gentlemen 
through  the  glass — the  door  was  flung  open — 
flower-pots  fell  in  homage  to  j:)assing  petticoats, 
and  Mr.  Vanstone's  youngest  daughter  ran  up 
to  him  at  headlong  speed,  with  every  external 
appearance  of  having  suddenly  taken  leave  of 
her  senses. 

"  Papa !  the  dream  of  my  whole  life  is  real- 
ized," she  said,  as  soon  as  she  could  speak.  "  I 
shall  fly  through  the  roof  of  the  green-house  if 
somebody  doesn't  hold  me  down.  The  Marra- 
bles  have  come  here  with  an  invitation,  (iuess, 
you  darling — guess  what  they  're  going  to  give 
at  Evergreen  Lodge  1" 


NO  NAME. 


17 


"  A  ball,"  said  Mr.  Vanstnne,  without  a  mo- 
ment's liositation. 

"  Private  Theatricals  ! ! !"  cried  Magdalen, 
her  clear  young  voice  ringing  throngli  tlie 
conservatory  like  a  bell ;  her  loose  sleeves  fall- 
ing back,  and  showing  Jier  round  wliite  arms 
to  the  dimpled  elbows  as  she  clapped  her  hands 
ecstatically  in  the  air.  "  Tlie  Rivals  is  the 
play,  papa — the  Rivals  by  the  famous  wliat-'s- 
his-name — and  they  want  MK  to  act !  Tiie  one 
thing  in  tlie  whole  universe  tliat  I  long  to  do 
most.  It  all  depends  on  you.  Mamma  shakes 
her  head;  and  Miss  Gartli  looks  daggers;  and 
Norah  's  as  snlky  as  usual — but  if  you  say  Yes. 
they  must  all  three  give  way  and  let  u;e  do  as 
I  like.  Say  yes,"  she  pleaded,  nestling  softly 
up  to  her  father,  and  ])ressing  her  lips  with  a 
ibnd  gentleness  to  his  ear,  as  she  whispered  the 
next  wwds.  "  Say  Yes,  and  1  '11  be  a  good 
girl  ior  the  rest  of  my  life." 

'-  A  good  girl  V"  re[)eated  ]\Ir.  Yanstone — "A 
mad  girl,  I  think  you  nmst  mean.  Hang  these 
people  and  their  theatricals !  I  sliall  have  to 
go  indoors  and  see  about  this  matter.  You 
needn't  throw  away  your  cigar,  Frank.  You 
are  well  out  of  the  business,  and  you  can  stop 
here." 

"  No,  he  can't,"  said  Magdalen.  "  He  's  in 
the  business  too." 

IVTr.  Francis  Clare  ha<l  hitherto  remained 
modestly  in  the  back-ground.  He  now  came 
forward,  with  a  face  expressive  of  speechless 
amazeuKuit. 

"  Yes,"  continued  ]\Iagdalon,  answering  his 
blank  look  of  inijuiry  witii  perfect  composure. 
"  You  are  to  act.  ]Miss  IMarrable  and  I  have 
a  turn  for  business,  and  we  settled  it  all  in  five 
minutes.  There  are  two  parts  in  the  play  left 
to  be  filled.  One  is  Lucy,  the  waiting-maid, 
which  is  the  character  1  h.ive  undertaken  — 
with  papa's  permission,"  she  a'lded,  slyly  pinch- 
ing her  father's  arm;  "and  he  won't  say  No, 
will  lie  y  First,  because  he  's  a  darling  ;  sec- 
ondly, because  I  love  him  and  he  loves  me; 
thirdly,  because  there  is  never  any  difference 
of  opinion  between  us  (is  there?);  fourthly, 
iH'cause  I  give  him  a  kiss,  which  naturally  stops 
Jiis  mouth  and  settles  the  whole  question.  Dear 
me,  I  'm  wandering.  Where  was  I  just  now? 
Oh  yes!  explaining  myself  to  Frank — " 

"  I  beg  your  panlon,"  began  Frank,  attempt- 
ing at  this  point  to  enter  Jiis  protest. 

"  The  second  character  in  the  play,"  pursued 
iVIagdalcn,  without  taking  the  smallest  notice 
of  the  protest,  "  is  Falkland — a  jealous  lover, 
with  a  fine  flow  of  language.  Miss  Marrable 
and  I  discussed  Falkland  privately  on  the  win- 
dow-seat while  the  rest  were  talking.  She  is 
a  delightful  girl — so  impulsive,  so  sensible,  so 
entirely  unaffected.  She  confided  in  me.  She 
said,  '  One  of  our  miseries  is  that  we  can't  find 
a  gentleman  who  will  grapple  with  the  hideous 
difVicnlties  of  Falkland.'  Of  course  I  soothed 
her.  Of  course  I  said,  '  I  've  got  the  gentle- 
man, and  he  shall  grapple  immediately.'"  '  Oh, 
Heavens !  who  is  ho  ?'  — '  ili-.  Francis  Clare.' 


'  And  where  is  he  ?  —  'In  the  house  at  this  mo- 
ment.'— '  Will  you  be  so  very  charming,  Miss 
Vanstone,  as  to  fetch  him?  '  —  '  I  '11  fetch  him, 
Miss  Marrable,  with  the  greatest  jileasure.'  I 
left  the  window-seat — 1  rushed  into  the  morn- 
ing-room— I  smelt  cigars — I  followed  the  smell, 
and  here  I  am." 

"  It  's  a  compliment,  I  know,  to  be  asked  to 
act,"  said  Frank,  in  great  embarrassment. 
"  But  I  hope  you  and  iSIiss  Marrable  will  ex- 
cuse me — " 

"  Certainly  not.  Miss  Marrable  and  I  are 
both  remarkable  for  the  firmness  of  our  charac- 
ters. When  we  say  Mr.  So-and-So  is  positively 
to  act  the  part  of  Falkland,  we  ]iositively  mean 
it.     Come  in  and  be  introduced." 

"  But  I  never  tried  to  act.  I  don't  know 
how." 

"  Not  of  the  slightest  consequence.  If  vou 
don't  know  how,  come  to  me,  and  I  '11  teach 
you." 

"  You  1"  exclaimed  ^Ir.  A^anstone.  "  What 
do  you  know  about  it?" 

"  Pray,  papa,  be  serious !  T  have  the  strong- 
est internal  conviction  that  I  could  act  every 
character  in  the  jilay  —  Falkland  included. 
Don't  let  ine  have  to  speak  a  second  time, 
Frank.     Come  and  be  introduced." 

She  took  her  father's  arm,  and  moved  with 
him  to  the  door  of  the  green-liouse.  At  the 
steps  she  turned  and  looked  round  to  see  if 
Frank  was  following  her.  It  was  only  the 
action  of  a  moment ;  but  in  that  moment  her 
natural  finnness  of  will  rallied  all  its  re- 
sources, strengthened  itself  wilii  the  influence 
of  her  beauty — commanded — and  eontjuered. 
She  looked  lovely :  the  flush  was  tenderly 
bright  in  her  (hecks ;  the  radiant  pleasure 
slione  and  sparkU'd  in  her  eyes  ;  the  position 
of  her  figure,  turned  suddenly  from  the  waist 
upward,  disclosed  its  delicate  strength,  its 
supple  firmness,  its  seductive  serpentine  grace. 
"  Come !"  she  said,  with  a  cocpicttish  beckon- 
ing action  of  her  head — "  come,  Frank  I" 

Few  men  of  forty  would  have  resisted  her 
at  that  moment.  Frank  was  twenty  last 
birthday.  In  other  words,  he  threw  aside 
his  cigar  and  followed  her  out  of  the  green- 
house. 

As  he  turned  and  closed  the  door  —  in  the 
instant  when  he  lost  sight  of  her  —  his  disin- 
clination to  be  associated  with  the  private 
theatricals  revived.  At  the  foot  of  the  house- 
steps  he  stopped  again  ;  plucked  a  twig  from 
a  plant  near  him ;  broke  it  in  his  hand ;  and 
looked  about  him  uneasily,  on  this  side  and  on 
that.  The  path  to  the  left  led  back  to  his 
father's  cottage  —  the  way  of  escape  lay  open. 
Why  not  take  it  ? 

Whih'  he  still  hesitated  Mr.  Yanstone  and 
his  daughter  reached  the  top  of  the  steps. 
Once  mon-  Mag<lalen  looked  round ;  looked 
with  licr  resistless  beauty,  with  her  all-con- 
(piering  smile.  She  beckoned  again ;  and 
again  he  followed  her  —  up  the  steps  and  over 
the  threshold,     'i'he  door  closed  on  them. 


18 


NO  NAME. 


So,  ■w'itli  a  trifling  gesture  of  invitation  on 
one  side,  with  a  trifling  act  of  compliance  on 
the  other  ;  so,  with  no  knowledge  in  his  mind, 
with  no  thought  in  hers,  of  the  secret  still  hid- 
den under  the  journey  to  London  —  they  took 
the  way  which  led  to  that  secret's  discovery, 
through  many  a  darker  winding  that  was  yet 
to  come. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Vanstone's  inquiries  into  the  proposed 
theatrical  entertainment  at  Evergreen  Lodge 
were  answered  by  a  narrative  of  dramatic  dis- 
asters, of  which  Miss  Marrable  impersonated 
the  innocent  cause,  and  in  which  her  father 
and  mother  played  the  parts  of  chief  victims. 

Miss  Marrable  was  that  hardest  of  all  born 
tyrants — an  only  child.  She  had  never  granted 
a  constitutional  privilege  to  her  oppressed 
father  and  mother  since  the  time  wlien  she 
cut  her  first  tooth.  Her  seventeenth  birthday 
was  now  near  at  hand ;  she  had  decided  on 
celebrating  it  by  acting  a  play,  had  issued  her 
orders  accordingly,  and  had  been  obeyed  by 
her  docile  parents  as  implicitly  as  usual.  Mrs. 
Marrable  gave  up  the  drawing-room  to  be  laid 
waste  for  a  stage  and  a  theatre.  Mr.  Alarrable 
secured  the  services  of  a  respectable  profes- 
sional person  to  drill  the  young  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  and  to  accept  all  the  other  respon- 
sibilities incidental  to  creating  a  dramatic 
world  out  of  a  domestic  chaos.  Having  fur- 
ther accustomed  themselves  to  the  breaking  of 
i'urniture  and  the  staining  of  walls^to  thump- 
ing, tumbling,  hammering,  and  screaming ;  to 
doors  always  banging,  and  to  footsteps  perpet- 
ually running  up  and  down  stairs— the  nom- 
inal master  and  mistress  of  the  house  fondly 
believed  that  their  chief  troubles  were  over. 
Innocent  and  fatal  delusion  !  It  is  one  thing, 
in  private  society,  to  set  up  the  stage  and 
choose  the  play — it  is  anotlier  thing  altogether 
to  find  the  actors.  Hitherto  only  the  small  pre- 
liminary annoyances  proper  to  the  occasion 
had  shown  themselves  at  Evergreen  Lodge. 
The  sound  and  serious  troubles  Avere  all  to 
come. 

"The  llivahs"  having  been  chosen  as  the 
play.  Miss  Marrable,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
appropriated  to  herself  the  part  of  "  Lydia 
Languish."  One  of  her  favored  swains  next 
secured  "  Captain  Absolute,"  and  another  laid 
violent  hands  on  "  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger." 
These  two  were  followed  by  an  accommodat- 
ing spinster-relative,  who  accepted  the  heavy 
dramatic  responsibility  of  "  Mrs.  Malaprop" — 
and  there  the  theatrical  proceedings  came  to 
a  pause.  Nine  more  speaking  characters  were 
left  to  be  fitted  with  representatives ;  and 
with  that  unavoidable  necessity  the  serious 
troubles  began. 

All  the  friends  of  the  family  suddenly  be- 
came unreliable  people,  for  the  first  time  in 


their  lives.  After  encouraging  the  idea  of  the 
play,  they  declined  the  personal  sacrifice  of 
acting  in  it^ — -or  they  accepted  characters,  and 
then  broke  down  in  the  efibrt  to  study  them — 
or  they  volunteered  to  take  the  parts  which 
they  knew  were  already  engaged,  and  de- 
clined the  parts  which  were  waiting  to  be 
acted  —  or  they  were  afflicted  with  weak  con- 
stitutions, and  mischievously  fell  ill  when  they 
were  wanted  at  rehearsal  —  or  they  had  Puri- 
tan relatives  in  the  back-ground,  and,  after 
slipping  into  their  parts  cheerfully  at  the 
week's  beginning,  oozed  out  of  them  peni- 
tently, under  serious  family  pressure,  at  the 
week's  end.  Meanwhile  the  carpenters  ham- 
mered and  the  scene  rose.  Miss  Marrable, 
whose  temperament  was  sensitive,  became 
hysterical  under  the  strain  of  perpetual  anx- 
iety ;  the  family  doctor  declined  to  answer  for 
the  nervous  consequences  if  something  was 
not  done.  Renewed  efforts  were  made  in 
every  direction.  Actors  and  actresses  were 
sought  with  a  desperate  disregard  of  all  con- 
siderations of  personal  fitness.  Necessity, 
which  knows  no  law,  either  in  the  drama  or 
out  of  it,  accepted  a  lad  of  eighteen  as  the 
representative  of  "  Sir  Antony  Absolute,"  the 
stage  manager  undertaking  to  supply  the  nec- 
essary wrinkles  from  the  illimitable  resources 
of  theatrical  art.  A  lady  wliose  age  was  un- 
known, and  whose  jiersonal  appearance  was 
stout  —  but  whose  heart  was  in  the  right 
place  —  volunteered  to  act  the  part  of  the 
sentimental  "  Julia,"  and  brought  with  her 
the  dramatic  qualification  of  habitually  Avear- 
ing  a  wig  in  private  life.  Thanks  to  these 
vigorous  measures,  the  play  was  at  last  sup- 
plied with  representatives  —  always  excepting 
the  two  unmanageable  characters  of  "  Lucy," 
the  waiting -maid,  and  "Falkland,"  Julia's 
jealous  lover.  Gentlemen  came  ;  saw  Julia 
at  rehearsal ;  observed  her  stoutness  and  her 
wig;  omitted  to  notice  that  her  heart  was  in 
the  right  j}lace;  quailed  at  the  prospect, 
apologized,  and  retired.  Ladies  read  the 
part  of  "  Lucy  ;"  remarked  that  she  appeared 
to  great  advantage  in  the  first  half  of  the 
play,  and  faded  out  of  it  altogether  in  the 
hitter  half;  objected  to  pass  from  the  notice 
of  the  audience  in  that  manner,  when  all  the 
rest  had  a  chance  of  distinguisJiing  them- 
selves to  the  end;  shut  up  tiic  book,  apolo- 
gized, and  retired.  In  eight  days  more  the 
night  of  performance  would  arrive;  a  phalanx 
of  social  martyrs  two  hundred  strong  had 
been  convened  to  witness  it ;  three  full  re- 
hearsals were  absolutely  necessary ;  and  two 
characters  in  the  play  were  not  filled  yet. 
With  this  lamentable  story,  and  with  the 
humblest  apc^logies  for  presuming  on  a  slight 
ac(piaintance,  the  Marrables  appeared  at 
Con\be-Raven  to  appeal  to  the  young  ladies 
for  a  "  Lucy,"  and  to  the  universe  for  a  "Falk- 
land," with  the  mendicant  pertinacity  of  a 
family  iu  despair. 

This  statement  of  cii-cumstances — addressed 


NO  NAME. 


I 


19 


to  an  audience  wliich  included  a  father  of  Mr. 
Vanslone's  disposition.  <ind  a  daughter  of  Mag- 
dalen's temperament  —  produced  the  result 
which  might  have  been  anticipated  fi-om  the 
first. 

Either  misinterpreting  or  disregarding  the 
ominous  .silence  preserved  by  liis  wife  and  Miss 
Garth,  Mr.  Vanstonc  not  oidy  gave  Magdalen 
permission  to  assist  the  forlorn  dramatic  com- 
pany, but  accepted  an  invitation  to  witness 
the  performance  for  Norali  and  liimself  Mrs. 
A^anstone  declined  accom])anying  them  on 
account  of  lier  liealth;  and  Miss  Garth  only 
engaged  to  make  one  among  the  audience, 
conditionally  on  not  being  wanted  at  home. 
The   "i)arts"    of    "  Lucv"    and    "Falkland" 


open  in  his  hand — the  most  incapable  of  Falk- 
lands,  and  the  most  ]u'l])less  of  mankind. 

Frank's  departure  left  the  tamily  by  them- 
selves, and  was  the  signal,  accordingly,  for  an 
attack  on  IMr.  Vanstone's  inveterate  careless- 
ness in  the  exercise  of  his  paternal  authority. 

"  What  could  you  possibly  be  thinking  of, 
Andrew,  when  you  gave  your  consent?"  said 
Mrs.  Vanstone.  "  Surely  my  silence  was  a 
suflicient  warning  to  you  to  say  No." 

"  A  mistake  I\Ir.  Vanstone,"  chimed  in  Misi 
Garth.  "  ^lade  with  the  best  intentions — but 
a  mistake  for  all  that." 

"  It  may  be  a  mistake,"  said  Norah,  taking 
her  father's  part  as  usual.  "  But  I  really  don't 
see  how  impa,  or  anv  one  else,  could  have  de- 


(which  the   distressed    family   carried    about  i  clined  under  the  circumstances." 

with  them  evervwhere.  liki>  incidental  mala-        "  Quite  right,  my  dcrar,"  observed  Mr.  Van- 


dies)  were  handed  to  their  representatives  on 
the  spot.     Frank's  faint  remonstrances  were 


stone.  "  The  circumstances,  as  you  say,  were 
dead  against  me.  Here  were  these  unfortu- 
rejected  without  a  liearing;  the  days  and  j  nate  people  in  a  scrape  on  one  side;  and  j\Iag- 
liours  of  rehearsal  were  carefully  notetl  down  j  dalen,  on  the  other,  mad  to  act.  I  couldn't  say 
on  the  covers  of  the  parts;  and  the  INIarrables  i  I  had  methodistical  ol)jections  —  I  've  nothing 
took  their  leave,  with  a  perfect  explosion  V)f  I  methodistical  about  me.  What  other  excuse 
thanks — father,  mother,  and  daughter  sowing  j  could  I  make  ?     The  ]\Iarrables  are  respectable 


their  expressions  of  gratitude  broadcast,  from 
the  drawing-room  door  to  the  garden  gates. 

As  soon  as  the  carriage  had  driven  away, 
Magdalen  presented  herself  to  the  general  ob- 
servation under  an  entirely  new  aspect. 

"If  any  more  visitors  call  to-day,"  she  said, 
with  the  proibundest  gravity  of  look  and  man- 
ner, "  I  am  not  at  home.  This  is  a  far  more 
serious  matter  than  any  of  you  suppose.  Go 
somewhere  by  yourself,  Frank,  and  read  over 
your  part,  and  don't  let  your  attention  wander 
if  you  can  jiossibly  help  it.  I  shall  not  be  ac- 
cessible before  the  evening.  If  you  will  come 
here  —  with  papa's  permission  —  after  tea,  my 
views  on  the  subject  of  Falkland  will  be  at 
}our  disposal.  Thomas  I  whatever  else  the 
ganU-ner  does,  he  is  not  to  make  any  lioricul- 
tural  noises  unfh'r  my  window.  For  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon  I  shall  be  immersed  in  study, 
and  the  (juieter  the  house  is,  the  more  obliged 
I  shall  feel  to  everybody." 

Before  Miss  Garth's  battery  of  reproof  could 
open  fire,  before  the  first  outiiui-st  of  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  hearty  laughter  could  escape  his  lips, 
she  Ijowed  to  thtm  with  imperturbable  gravity; 
ascenrk'd  the  house-steps  for  the  first  time  in 
her  lif(^  at  a  walk  instead  of  a  run,  and  re- 
tired then  and  there  to  the  bedroom  regions. 
Frank's  helpless  astonishment  at  her  disai)pear- 
ance  addec]  a  new  clement  of  absurdity  to  the 
scene.  He  stood  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on 
the  other;  rolling  and  uin'olling  his  part,  and 
looking  piteously  in  the  faces  of  the  friends 
about  him.  "  I  know  I  can't  do  it,"  he  said. 
"  May  I  (  ome  in  after  tea  and  hear  Magdalen's 
views  ?  Thank  you — I  '11  look  in  about  eicht. 
Don't  tell  my  father  about  this  a<-ting,  please  : 
I  should  never  hear  the  last  of  it."  Those 
wprc  the  only  words  he  had  spirit  enough  to 
utter.  He  drifted  away  aimlessly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  shrubbery,  with  the  jmrt  hanging 


people,  and  keep  the  best  company  in  Clifton. 
What  harm  can  she  get  in  their  house  ?  If 
you  come  to  prudence  and  that  sort  of  thing — 
why  shouldn't  ISIagdalen  do  what  Miss  ]\Iarra- 
ble  does  ?  There!  there!  let  the  poor  things 
act,  and  amuse  themselves.  We  were  tlieir 
age  once — and  it  "s  no  use  making  a  fuss — and 
that 's  all  I  've  got  to  say  about  it !" 

With  that  characteristic  defense  of  hi.s  own 
conduct  Mr.  Vanstone  sauntered  back  to  the 
green-house  to  smoke  another  cigar. 

"  I  didn't  say  so  to  papa,"  said  Norah,  taking 
her  mother's  arm  on  the  way  back  to  the  house; 
"  but  the  bad  result  of  the  acting,  in  my  opin- 
ion, Avill  be  the  familiarity  it  is  sure  to  encour- 
age between  Magdalen  and  Francis  Clare." 

"You  are  prejudiced  against  Frank,  my 
love,"  said  ]\Irs.  Vanstone. 

Norah's  soft,  secret,  hazel  eyes  sank  to  the 
ground  :  she  said  no  more.  Her  opinions  were 
unchangeable  —  but  she  never  disputed  with 
anybody.  She  had  the  great  fiiiling  of  a  re- 
served "nature  —  the  fiiiling  of  obstinacy;  and 
the  great  merit — the  merit  of  silence.  "  What 
is  your  head  running  on  now?"  thought  Miss 
Garth,  casting  a  sharp  look  at  Norah's  dark, 
downcast  face.  "  You  're  one  of  the  impcnr- 
trablc,  sort.  Give  me  ]\Iagdalen,  with  all  her 
perversities ;  I  can  see  daylight  through  her. 
You  're  as  dark  as  night." 

The  hours  of  the  afternoon  pa.sscd  away,  and 
still  jMagdalen  remained  shut  up  in  her  own 
room.  No  restless  font>te])s  pattered  on  the 
stairs;  no  nimble  tongue  was  heard  chattering 
here  tlu^re,  and  everywhere,  from  the  gairet 
to  the  kitchen  — the  house  seemed  hardly  like 
itself,  with  the  one  ever-disturbing  element  in 
the  family  serenitv  suddenly  withdra^'u  from 
it.  Anxious  to  witness  with  her  own  eyes  the 
reality  of  a  transformation  in  which  past  expe- 
rience  still    inclined   her   to  disbelieve,  RiIbs 


20 


NO  NAME. 


Garth  ascended  to  Magdalen's  room,  knocked 
twice  at  the  door,  received  no  answer,  opened 
it,  and  looked  in. 

There  sat  Magdalen,  in  an  arm-chair  before 
the  long  looking-glass,  with  all  her  hair  let 
down  over  her  shonlders,  absorbed  in  the  study 
of  her  part,  and  comfortably  arrayed  in  her 
morning-wrapper,  until  it  was  time  to  dress  for 
dinner.  And- there  behind  her  sat  tlie  lady's- 
maid,  slowly  combing  out  the  long,  heavy  locks 
of  her  young  mistress's  hair,  with  the  sleepy 
resignation  of  a  woman  who  had  been  engaged 
in  that  employment  lor  some  hours  past."  The 
sun  was  shining,  and  the  green  sliuttcrs  out- 
side the  window  were  closed.  The  dim  light 
iell  tenderly  on  the  two  (juiet  seated  figures ; 
on  the  little  white  bed,  v/ith  the  knots  of  rose- 
colored  ribbon  which  looped  up  its  curtains, 
and  the  bright  dress  for  dinner  Ir.id  ready 
across  it;  on  the  gayiy  painted  batli,  with  it's 
pure  lining  of  white  enamel;  on  the  toilet-table 
with  its  sparkling  trinkets,  its  crystal  bottles, 
its  silver  bell  with  Cupid  for  a  handle,  its  litter 
of  little  luxuries  that  adorn  tlie  shrine  of  a 
woman's  bedchamber.  The  luxurious  tran- 
quillity of  tlie  scene;  the  cool  fragrance  of 
flowers  and  perfumes  in  the  atmosj)here  ;  the 
rapt  attitude  of  Magdalen,  absorbed  over  her 
reading ;  the  monotonous  regularity  of  move- 
ment in  the  maid's  hand  and  arm,  as  she  drew 
the  comb  smoothly  through  and  through  her 
mistress's  hair — all  conveyed  the  same"  sooth- 
ing impression  of  drowsy,  delicious  ([uiet.  On 
one  side  of  the  door  were  the  broad  daylight 
and  the  familiar  realities  of  life.  On  the  other 
Avas  the  dream-land  of  Elysian  serenity,  the 
sanctuary  of  unruffled  repose. 

Miss  Garth  paused  on  the  threshold,  and 
looked  into  the  room  in  silence. 

Magdalen's  curious  fancy  for  havinrr  her  hair 
combed  at  all  times  and  seasons  was  amonnf  the 
peculiarities  of  lier  character  which  were  noto- 
rious to  everybody  in  the  house.  It  was  one 
oi"  her  father's  favorite  jokes,  that  she  re- 
minded him,  on  such  occasions,  of  a  cat  havin<i- 
her  back  stroked,  and  that  he  always  expected, 
if  the  combing  were  only  continued  lon<j;- 
enough,  to  hear  her  pur.  Extravagant  as  it 
may  seem,  the  comparison  was  not  altogether 
inappropriate.  The  girl's  fervid  temj)erament 
intensified  the  essentially  feminine  pleasure 
that  most  women  feel  in  the  j)assage  of  the 
comb  through  their  hair  to  a  luxury  of  sensa- 
tion which  absorbed  her  in  enjoyment,  so 
serenely  self-demonstrative,  so  drowsily  deep, 
that  it  did  irresistibly  suggest  a  pet  cat's  .enjoy- 
ment under  a  caressing  hand.  Intimately  as 
Miss  Garth  was  acquainted  with  this  peculiar- 
ity in  her  pupil,  she  now  saw  it  asserting  itself 
ibr  the  first  time  in  association  v/ith  mental 
exertion  of  any  kind  on  Magdalen's  part. 
Feeling,  therefore,  some  curiosity  to  know  how 
long  the  combing  and  the  studyinc:  had  gone  on 
together,  she  ventured  on  putting  the  question, 
first  to  the  mistress,  and  (receivinn^  no  answer 
in  that  quarter),  secondly,  to  the  maid. 


"  All  the  afternoon,  Miss,  off  and  on,"  was 
the  weary  answer.  "  Miss  Magdalen  saj's  it 
soothes  her  feelings,  and  clears  her  mind." 

Knowing  hy  experience  that  Interference 
would  be  hopeless  under  these  circumstances, 
Miss  Garth  turned  sharply  and  left  tlie  room. 
She  smiled  when  she  was  outside  on  the  land- 
ing. Tiie  female  mind  does  occasionally, 
though  not  often,  project  itself  into  the  future. 
Miss  Garth  was  prophetically  pitying  Magda- 
len's unfortunate  husband. 

Dinner-time  presented  the  fair  student  to 
the  family  eye  in  the  same  mentally  absorbed 
aspect.  On  all  ordinary  occasions  Magdalen's 
apj)etite  would  have  terrified  those  feeble  sen- 
timentalists who  afi'ect  to  ignore  the  all-impor- 
tant influence  which  female  feeding  exerts  in 
the  production  of  female  beauty.  On  this  occa- 
sion she  refused  one  dish  after  another  with  a 
resolution  which  implied  the  rarest  of  all  mod- 
ern martyrdoms— gastric  martyrdom.  "  I  have 
conceived  the  part  of  Lucy,"  she  observed, 
with  the  demurest  gravity.  "  The  next  diffi- 
culty is  to  make  Frank  conceive  the  part  of 
Falkland.  I  see  nothing  to  laugh  at  —  you 
would  all  be  serious  enough  if  you  had  my 
responsibilities.  No,  papa  —  no  wine  to-day, 
thank  you.  I  must  keep  ray  intelligence  clear. 
Water,  Thomas  —  and  a  little  more  jelly,  I 
think,  before  you  take  it  away." 

When  Frank  presented  himself  in  the  even- 
ing, ignorant  of  the  first  elements  of  his  part, 
she  took  him  in  hand,  as  a  middle-aged  school- 
mistress might  have  taken  in  hand  a  backward 
little  boy.  The  few  attempts  he  made  to  vary 
the  sternly  practical  nature  of  the  evening's 
occupation  by  slipping  in  compliments  sidelong 
she  ])ut  away  from  her  with  the  contemptuous 
self-possession  of  a  woman  of  twice  her  age. 
She  literally  forced  him  into  his  part.  Her 
father  fell  asleep  in  his  chair.  Mrs.  Vanstone 
and  Miss  Garth  lost  their  interest  in  the  pro- 
ceedings, retired  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room, 
and  spoke  logether  in  whispers.  It  grew  later 
and  later:  and  still  Magdalen  never  flinched 
from  her  task — still,  with  equal  ])erseverance, 
Norah,  who  had  been  on  the  watch  all  through 
the  evening,  kept  on  the  watch  to  the  end. 
The  distrust  darkened  and  darkened  on  her 
face  as  slie  looked  at  her  sister  and  Frank ;  as 
she  saw  how  close  thej^  sat  together,  devoted 
to  the  same  interest  and  working  to  the  same 
end.  The  clock  on  the  mantle-piece  pointed 
to  half-past  eleven  before  Lucy  the  resolute 
]iermitted  Falkland  the  helpless  to  sliut  up  his 
task-book  for  the  night.  "  She  's  wonderfully 
clever  isn't  she?"  said  Frank,  taking  leave  of 
Mr.  Vanstone  at  the  hall  door.  "  I  am  to  eonie 
to-morrow  and  hear  more  of  her  views — if  you 
have  no  objection.  I  shall  never  do  it;  don't 
tell  her  I  said  so.  As  fast  as  she  teaches  me 
one  speech,  the  otlier  goes  out  of  my  head. 
Discouraging,  isn't  it  ?     Good-night." 

The  next  day  but  one  was  the  day  of  the 
first  full  rehearsal.  On  the  previous  evening 
Mrs.    Vanstone's   spirits   had    been  sadly  de- 


NO  NAME. 


21  i 


pressed.  At  a  private  intervioAv  with  Miss 
Garth  she  had  referred  asrain,  of  lier  own 
accord,  to  tlie  subject  of  Iier  letter  from  Lon- 
don —  had  spoken  self-reproachfully  of  her 
weakness  in  admittinp:  Captain  Wraoce's  im- 
pudent chaim  to  a  family  connection  with  her — 
and  had  then  reverted  to  the  state  of  her 
health,  and  to  the  doubtful  prospect  that 
awaited  hei'  in  the  coming  summer,  in  a  tone 
of  despondency  which  it  was  very  distressinij 
to  hear.  Anxious  to  cheer  her  spirits,  ]\Tiss 
Gartli^haA  clianijed  the  conversation  as  soon 
.IS  possible  —  had  referred  to  the  approach- 
ing tlicatrical  performance  —  and  had  relieved 
Mrs.  Vanstone's  mind  of  all  anxiety  in  that 
direction,  by  announcing  her  intention  of  ac- 
companying Magdalen  to  each  roliearsal,  and 
of  not  losing  sight  of  her  until  she  was  safely 
back  again  in  her  father's  house.  According- 
ly, when  Frank  presented  himself  at  Coml)e- 
Raven  on  the  eventful  morning,  there  stood 
IVIiss  Garth  prepared  —  in  the  interpolated 
character  of  Argus — to  accompany  Lucy  and 
Falkland  to  the  scene  of  trial.  The  railway 
conveyed  the  three,  in  excellent  time,  to 
Evergreen  Lodge ;  and  at  one  o'clock  the 
rehearsal  bcfran. 


CHAPTER  YL 

"  T  hope  l\Iiss  Vanstone  knows  her  ]->art  ?" 
whispered  Mrs.  ^Marrable,  anxiously  address- 
ing herself  to  IMiss  Garth  in  a  corner  of  the 
theatre. 

"  If  airs  and  graces  make  an  actress,  ma'am. 
Magdalen's  jierfbrmance  will  astonish  ns  all." 
With  that  reply  iSIiss  Garth  took  out  her  work 
and  seated  herself,  on  guard,  in  the  centre  of 
the  pit. 

The  manager  perched  himself,  book  in  hand, 
on  a  stool  close  in  front  of  the  stage.  He  Avas 
an  active  little  man,  of  a  sweet  and  cheerful 
lem])er :  and  he  gave  the  signal  to  begin  with 
ns  patient  an  interest  in  the  proceedings  as  if 
they  had  caused  him  no  trouble  in  the  past, 
and  ])romised  him  no  dilliculty  in  the  future. 
The  two  characters  wliicli  open  the  comedy 
of  The  Rivals,  "  F.ag"  and  the  "  Coachman," 
appc-arcd  on  the  scene  —  looked  many  sizes 
too  tall  for  their  canvas  back-ground,  whicli 
represented  a  "Street  in  IJath"  —  exhibited 
the  customary  inability  to  manage  their  own 
arms,  legs,  and  voices  —  went  out  severally  at 
the  wrong  exits  —  and  expressed  their  perfect 
apjiroval  of  i-esnlt,  so  far,  by  laughing  heartily 
beiiind  the  scenes.  *•  Silence,  genth-nien,  if 
you  please,"  remonstrated  the  cheerful  mana- 
ger. "  As  loud  as  you  like  on  the  stage,  but 
the  audience  mustn't  hear  you  ojr  it.  Miss 
Marrablc  ready  V  Miss  Vanstone  ready  ?  Easy 
there  with  the  '  Street  in  Bath;'  it  's  going 
up  crooked  !  Face  this  way,  Miss  Marrable  ; 
.  full  face,  if  you  please.  Miss  Vanstone  — " 
He  checked  himstdf  .suddenly.  "  Curious," 
he  said,  under  his  breath  —  "she  fronts  the 


audience  of  her  own  accord  !"  Lucy  opened 
the  scene  in  these  words:  "Indeed,  ma'am,  T 
traversed  half  the  town  in  search  of  it:  I 
don't  believe  there  's  a  circulating  library  in 
Bath  I  haven't  been  .at.  The  manager  started 
in  his  chair.  "  My  heart  alive  !  she  speaks 
out  without  telling!"  The  dialogue  went  on. 
Lucy  produced  the  novels  for  Miss  Lydia  Lan- 
guish's private  reading  from  under  her  cloak. 
The  manager  rose  excitably  to  his  feet.  Mar- 
vellous I  No  hurry  with  the  books ;  no  drop- 
])ing  them.  She  looked  at  the  titles  before 
she  announced  them  to  her  mistress ;  she  set 
down  "  IIum])hrey  Clinker"  on  "The  Tears 
of  Sensibility  "  with  a  smart  little  smack  which 
pointed  the  antithesis.  One  moment — and 
she  announced  Julia's  visit ;  another — and  she 
dropped  the  brisk  waiting-maid's  curtesy;  a 
third — and  she  Avas  off  the  stage  instantly,  on 
the  side  set  dowr,  for  her  in  the  book.  The 
manager  wheeled  round  in  his  chair,  and 
looked  hard  at  IMiss  (larth.  "  I  beg  youi-  par- 
don, ma'am,"  he  said.  "Miss  Marrable  told 
me,  before  we  began,  that  tliis  was  the  young 
lady's  first  attempt.     It  can't  be,  surely  'f" 

"It  is,"  replied  ]\Iiss  Garth,  reflecting  the 
manager's  look  of  amazement  in  her  own  face. 
AY  as  it  possible  that  Magdalen's  unintelligible 
industry  in  the  stiidy  of  her  part  really  sprang 
from  a  serious  interest  in  her  occupation  —  an 
interest  which  implied  a  natural  fitness  for  it? 

The  rehearsal  went  on.  The  stout  lady 
Avith  the  wig  (and  the  excellent  heart)  per- 
sonated the  sentimental  Julia  from  an  invet- 
erately  tragic;  point  of  vieAv,  and  used  her 
handkerchief  distractedly  in  the  first  scene. 
The  spinster-relative  felt  Mrs.  Malajjrop's  mis- 
takes in.  language  so  seriously,  and  took  such 
extraordinary  pains  with  her  blunders,  that 
thev  sounded  more  like  exercises  in  elocution 
than  anything  else.  The  unhappy  lad  Avho 
led  the  forlorn  hope  of  the  company,  in  the 
person  of  "  Sir  Antony  Absolute,"  expressed 
the  ago  and  irnscibilit'y  of  his  character  by 
tottering  incessantly  at  the  knees,  and  thump- 
ing the  Ttaixe  ])t'rpetually  with  his  stick.  Slowly 
and  cjnmsilv,  with  constant  interruptions  and 
interniinal)le  mistakes,  the  first  a.-t  dragged 
on.  until  Lucy  a{)peare(l  again  to  end  it  in 
soliloipiv.  Avith  the  confession  of  her  assumed 
simplicitv  and  the  ])raise  of  her  own  cunning. 

Here  the  stage  artifice  of  the  situation  pre- 
.«entcd  diflicullics  Avhich  Magdalen  had  not 
encountered  in  the  first  scyne ;  and  here  her 
total  Avant  of  experience  led  her  into  more 
than  one  pal])able  mist.ake.  The  stage-nian- 
a^er,  Avitli  an  eagerness  which  he  had  not 
shown  ni  the  case  of  any  other  member  of  the 
companv,  interfered  immediately,  and  set  her 
riTht.  At  one  point  she  was  to  pause,  and 
take  a  turn  on  the  stage  —  she  did  it.  At 
another  she  was  to  stop,  toss  her  head,  and 
look  ])ertiy  at  the  audience  —  she  did  it. — 
When  she  to'bk  out  the  paper  to  read  the  list 
of  the  presents  she  had  received,  could  she 
give  it  a  tap  with  the   finger  (Yes)  '.''     And 


NO  NAME. 


lead  off  with  a  little  laugh  (Yes — aiter  twice 
trying)  ?  Could  slie  read  the  different  items 
with  a  sly  look  at  the  end  of  each  sentence, 
straight  at  the  pit  (Yes,  straight  at  the  pit, 
and  as  sly  as  you  please)  ?  The  manager's 
cheerful  face  beamed  witli  approval.  "  He 
tucked  the  play  under  his  arm,  and  clapped 
his  hands  gayly;  the  gentlemen,  clustered 
together  behind  the  scenes,  followed  Iiis  ex- 
ample ;  the  ladies  looked  at  eacli  other  witli 
dawning  doubts  Avhether  they  had  not  better 
have  left  the  new  recruit  in  the  retirement  of 
private  life.  Too  deeply  alisorbcd  in  the  Inisi- 
ue.ss  of  the  stage  to  heed  any  of  tl-.cm,  Mag- 
dalen asked  leave  to  repeat  the  solildiuy,  and 
make  quite  sure  of  her  own  improvement. 
She  went  all  through  it  auain,  without  a  mis- 
take this  time,  irom  beginning  to  end  ;  the 
manager  celebrating  her  attention  to  liis  direc- 
tions by  an  outburst  of  professional  approba- 
tion, which  escaped  him  in  sjiite  of  himself. 
"  She  can  take  a  hint!"  cried  the  little  man, 
with  a  hearty  smack  of  his  hand  on  the  prompt- 
book. "  She  's  a  born  actress,  if  ever  there 
was  one  yet !" 

*'Ihope  not,"  said  IMiss  Garth  to  herself, 
taking  up  the  work  which  had  dropped  into 
her  lap,  and  looking  down  at  it  in  some  per- 
plexity. Her  worst  apprehensions  of  results 
in  connection  with  tlie  theatrical  enterprise 
had  foreboded  levity  of  conduct  with  some  of 
the  gentlemen  —  she  had  not  bargained  for 
this.  ]\Iagdalen,  in  the  capacity  of  a  thought- 
less girl,  was  comparatively  easy  to  deal  with. 
Magdalea,  in  the  character  of  a  born  actress, 
threatened  serious  future  difficulties. 

The  rehearsal  pi-oceeded.  Lucy  returned 
to  the  stage  for  her  scenes  in  the  second  act 
(the  last  in  which  she  appeal's)  with  Sir  Lu- 
eius  and  Fag.  Here,  again,  Magdalim's  inex- 
perience betrayed  itself;  and  iiere  once  more 
her  resolution,  in  attacking  and  concjuer- 
ing  her  own  mistakes,  astonished  everybody. 
"  Bravo !"  cried  the  gentlemen  behind  the 
scenes,  as  she  steadily  trampled  down  one 
blunder  after  another.  "  Ridiculous  !"  said  the 
ladies,  "  with  such  a  small  part  as  hers." 
"Heaven  forgive  me!"  thought  Miss  Garth, 
coming  round  unwillingly  to  the  general  opin- 
ion. "  I  almost  v/ish  we  were  Papists,  and 
had  a  convent  to  put  her  in  to-morrow."  One 
of  Mr.  Marrable's  servants  entered  the  theatre 
as  that  desperate  aspiration  escaped  the  gov- 
erness. She  instantly  sent  the  man  beliind 
the  scenes  with  a  message:  "Miss  Vanstone 
has  done  her  part  in  the  rehearsal :  request 
her  to  come  here  and  sit  by  me."  The  ser- 
vant returned  Avith  a  polite  apology  :  "  Miss 
Vanstone's  kind  love,  and  she  begs  to  be 
excused  —  she  is  prompting  Mr.  Clare."  She 
prompted  him  to  such  purpose  that  he  actually 
got  through  his  part.  The  performances  of 
the  other  gentlemen  were  obtrusively  imbe- 
cile. Frank  was  just  one  degrw<^,  better — he 
■was  modestly  incapable ;  and  he  gained  by 
comparison.      "  Thanks   to   Miss   Vanstone," 


observed  the  manager,  who  had  heard  the 
prompting.  "  She  pulled  him  through.  We 
shall  be  flat  enough  at  night,  when  the  drop 
fiiUs  on  the  second  act,  and  the  audience  have 
seen  the  last  of  her.  It  's  a  thousand  pities 
she  hasn't  got  a  better  part. 

"  It  's  a  thousand  mercies  she  's  no  more 
to  do  than  she  has,"  muttered  Miss  Garth, 
overhearing  him.  "  As  things  are,  the  peo- 
ple can't  well  turn  her  head  with  applause. 
She  's  out  of  the  play  in  the  second  act  — 
that  's  one  comfort !" 

No  well-regulated  mind  ever  draws  its  in- 
ferences in  a  hurrj-;  Miss  Garth's  mind  was 
well  regulated ;  therefore,  logicality  speaking. 
Miss  Garth  ought  to  have  been  superior  to  the 
weakness  of  rushing  at  conclusions.  She  had 
committed  that  error,  nevertheless,  under 
present  circumstances.  In  plainer  terms,  the 
consoling  reflection  which  had  just  occurred 
to  her  assumed  that  tlie  play  had  by  this  time 
survived  all  its  disasters,  and  entered  on  its 
long-deferred  career  of  success.  The  play 
had  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  Misfortune 
and  the  Man-able  family  had  not  parted  com- 
pany yet. 

When  the  rehearsal  was  over,  nobody  ob- 
served that  the  stout  lady  with  the  wig  pri- 
vately withdrew  herself  from  the  company ; 
and  Avhen  she  was  afterward  missed  fi'om  the 
table  of  refreshments,  which  Mr.  Marrable's 
hospitality  kept  ready  spread  in  a  room  near 
the  theatre,  nobody  imagined  that  there  was 
any  serious  reason  for  her  absence.  It  was 
not  till  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  assembled 
for  the  next  rehearsal  that  the  true  state  of 
the  case  was  impressed  on  the  minds  of  the 
company.  At  the  appointed  hour  no  Julia 
appeared.  In  her  stead  ]Mrs.  Marrable  por- 
tentously approached  the  stage  with  an  open 
letter  in  her  hand.  She  was  naturally  a  lady 
of  the  mildest  good-breeding ;  she  v/as  mis- 
tress of  every  bland  conventionality  in  the 
English  language  ;  but  disasters  and  dramatic 
Influences  combined  threw  even  this  harmless 
matron  off  her  balance  at  last.  For  the  first 
time  In  her  life  Mrs.  Marrable  Indulged  in 
vehement  gesture  and  used  sti-ong  language. 
She  handed  the  letter  sternly,  at  arm's-length, 
to  her  daughter.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  with 
an  aspect  of  awful  composure,  "  we  are  under 
a  Curse."  Before  the  amazed  dramatic  com- 
pany could  petition  for  an  explanation  she 
turned  and  left  the  room.  The  manager's 
professional  eye  followed  her  out  respectfully — ■ 
he  looked  as  if  he  apj)roved  of  the  exit,  from 
a  theatrical  point  of  view. 

What  new  misfortune  had  befallen  the 
play  ?  The  last  and  worst  of  all  mislbrtunes 
had  assailed  it.  The  stout  lady  had  resigned 
her  part. 

Not  maliciously.  Her  heart,  which  had 
been  in  the  right  place  throughout,  remained 
Inflexibly  in  the  right  place  still.  Her  expla- 
nation of  the  circumstances  proved  this,  if 
nothinn;  else  did.     The  letter  bef];an  with  a 


Mr  ■    y 


NO  NAME. 


23 


Jterrient:  She  had  overheard  at  the  last 
Ifehearsal  (quite  unintentionally)  personal  re- 
jarks  of  whieh  she  was  the  subject.  They 
might,  or  might  not,  have  had  reference  to 
her — Hair,  and  hei* — Figure.  She  would  not 
distress  ^Mrs.  Marrable  by  repeating  them. 
Neither  would  she  mention  names,  because  it 
was  foreign  to  her  nature  to  make  bad  worse. 
The  only  course  at  all  consistent  with  her  own 
self-respect  was  to  resign  her  part.  She  in- 
closed it  accordingly  to  Mrs.  Marrable,  with 
many  apologies  for  her  presumption  in  under- 
taking a  youthfid  character  at  —  what  a  gen- 
tleman wa^s  ijleased  to  term  —  her  Age ;  and 
with  what  two  ladies  were  rude  enough  to 
characterize  as  her  disadvantages  of — Hair, 
and — Figure.  A  younger  and  more  attractive 
representative  of  Julia  would  no  doubt  be 
easily  found.  In  the  meantime  all  persons 
concerned  had  her  full  forgiveness ;  to  whit'h 
she  would  only  beg  leave  to  add  her  best  and 
kindest  wishes  for  the  success  of  tlie  play. 

In  four  nights  more  the  play  was  to  be  .per- 
formed. If  ever  any  human  enterprise  stood 
in  need  of  good  wishes  to  help  it,  that  enter- 
prise was  uncpiestionably  the  tlicatrical  enter- 
tainment at  Evergreen  Lodge  ! 

One  arm-chair  was  allowed  on  the  stage ; 
and  into  that  arm-chair  Miss  Marrable  sank, 
preparatory  to  a  fit  of  hysterics.  Magdalen 
stepped  forward  at  the  first  convulsion, 
snatched  the  letter  from  Miss  ]Marrable's 
hand,  and  stopj)ed  the  threatened  catastrophe. 

■'  She  's  an  ugly,  bald-headed,  malicious, 
middle-aged  wretcli,"  said  Magdalen,  tearing 
the  letter  into  fragments,  and  tossing  them 
over  the  heads  of  the  company.  "  But  I  can 
tell  her  one  thing — she  shan't  spoil  the  play. 
I  '11  act  JuHa." 

"  Bravo !"  cried  the  chorus  of  gentlemen — 
the  anonymous  gentleman  who'had  helped  to  I  very  last. 


ing  the  short  dialogue  about  the  novels  into 
a  soliloquy  for  j^ydia  Languish,  appeared  to 
be  the  onl}-  changes  of  importance  necessarv 
to  the  accomplishment  of  Magdalen's  project. 
Lucy's  two  telling  scenes  at  the  end  of  the 
first  and  second  acts  were  sufficiently  removed 
from  the  scenes  in  which  Julia  appeared  to 
give  time  for  the  necessary  transformations  in 
dress.  Even  Miss  (iarth,  though  she  tried 
hard  to  find  them,  could  put  no  fresh  obstacles 
in  the  way.  The  question  was  settled  in  five 
minutes,  ami  the  rehearsal  Avent  on  ;  ^lagda- 
len  learning  .lulia's  stage  situations  with  the 
book  in  her  hand,  and  announcing  afterward, 
on  the  journey  home,  that  she  proposed  sit- 
ting uji  all  night  to  study  the  new  part. 
Frank  thereupon  expressed  his  fears  that  slie 
Avould  have  no  time  to  help  him  through  his 
theatrical  difficulties.  She  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder  cociuettishly  with  her  part.  "  You 
foolish  fi'llow,  how  am  I  to  do  without  you  V 
You  're  Julia's  jealous  lover;  you  're  always 
making  Julia  cry.  Come  to-niglit,  and  make 
me  cry  at  tea-time.  You  haTcn't  got  a  ven- 
omous old  woman  in  a  wig  to  act  with  now. 
It  's  in;i  heart  you  're  to  break — and  of  course 
I  shall  teach  you  how  to  do  it." 

Th(>  four  days'  interval  passt'd  busily  in  per- 
petual rehearsals,  public  and  private.  The 
night  of  pertbrmance  arrived;  tlir  guests  as- 
sembled ;  the  great  dramatic  expcrinu'ut  stood 
on  its  trial.  ]\lagdalen  had  made  the  most  of 
her  opportunities;  she  had  learned  all  tliat  the 
manager  could  teach  her  in  the  time.  Miss 
(iarth  left  her  when  the  overture  began,  sit- 
ting apart  in  a  corner  l)eliind  the  scenes, 
serious  and  silent,  with  her  smelling-bottle  in 
one  hand  and  her  book  in  the  other,  resolutely 
tralninjj  herself  for  the  coming  ordeal  to  the 


do  the  mis(  liief  (otherwise  Mr.  Francis  Clare) 
loudest  of  all. 

"If  you  want  the  truth,  I  don't  shrink  from 
owning  it,"  continued  ]\I 
of  the  ladies  she  means. 


The   i)lay  began,  with  all  the   proper  ac- 
companiments of  a  theatrical  performance  in 
private   life  —  with   a   crowded  audience,  an 
dalen.     "  I  'm  one  .  African    temperature,    a   bursting   of   heated 
I   said   she   had  a    lamp-glasses,  and  a  ditliculty  in  drawing  up 


head  like  a  mop  and  a  waist  like  a  bolster,    the  curtain.     "Fag"  and   the  "  Coachman. 
So  she  has."  who   opened  the   scene,  took    leave  of  their 

"  I  am  the  other  lady,"  added  the  s])inster-  memories  as  soon  as  they  stepped  on  the 
relative.  "  But  /  only  .said  she  was  too  stout  \  stage;  left  half  their  dialogue  unspoken  ;  came 
for  the  part."  to  a  dead  jiaus<' ;  were  audibly  entreated  by 

"I  am  the  gentleman,"  chimed  in  Frank,  [  the  invisible  manager  to  "  come  off ;"  and  wont 
stimulated  by  the  force  of  example.  "  I  said  ;  off  accordingly,  in  every-  respe<;t  sadder  and 
nothing — I  only  agreed  with  the  ladies."  wiser  men  tJian   when   they   went   on.     The 

Here  Miss  (iarth  seized  her  opportunity,  next  scene  disclosed  Miss  Marrable  as  "  Lydia 
and  addressed  the  stage  loudly  from  the  pit.        Languish,"    gia<efuily    seated,    very    pretty, 

"Stop!  stop!"  she  said.  "  You  cin't  .settle  beautifully  dressed,  accurately  mistress  of  the 
the  difhculty  in  that  way.  If  Magdalen  plays  I  smallest  words  in  her  part;  possessed,  in  short, 
Julia,  who  is  to  play  Lucy?"  of  every  personal  resource  —  except  her  voice. 

Miss  Marrable  sank  back  in  the  arm-chair,  The  ladies  admired,  the  gentlemen  applauded, 
and  gave  way  to  the  second  convulsion.  |  Nobody  lieanl  anything  but  the  words  "  Speak 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !"  cried  Magdalen,  i  up,  Miss,"  whispered  bv  the  same  voice  which 
"the  thing  's  simple  enough.  I  '11  act  Julia  I  had  already  entreated  rag  and  the  Coachman 
and  r^ucy  both  together."  to  "  come  off."    A  responsive  titter  rose  among 

The  maiiajcr  was  consulted  on  the  spot,  the  younger  spectators,  checked  immediately 
Suppres.sing  Lucy's  first  entrance,  and  turn-    by  magnanimous  applause.     The  temperature 


24 


NO  NAME. 


of  the  audience  was  rising  to  Blood  Heat ; 
but  the  national  sense  of  fair  play  was  not 
boiled  out  of  them  yet. 

In  the  midst  of  the  demonstration  Magdalen 
quietly  made  her  first  entrance,  as  "  Julia." 
She  was  dressed  very  plainly  in  dark  colors, 
and  wore  her  own  hair ;  all  stage  adjuncts 
and  alterations  (excepting  the  slightest  possi- 
ble touch  of  rouge  on  her  cheeks)  having 
been  kept  in  reserve,  to  disguise  her  the  more 
effectually  in  her  secom!  part.  The  grace 
and  simplicity  of  her  costume,  the  steady  self- 
possession  with  which  siie  looked  out  over 
the  eager  rows  of  laces  before  her.  raised  a 
low  hum  of  approval  and  expectation.  She 
spoke  —  after  suppressing  a  momentary  tre- 
mor—  with  a  quiet  distinctness  of  utterance 
which  reached  all  ears,  and  which  at  once 
confirmed  the  favorable  impression  that  her 
apjiearance  had  produced..  The  one  member 
of  the  audience  who  looked  at  her  and  lis- 
tened to  her  coldly  was  her  elder  sister.  Be- 
fore the  actress  of  the  evening  had  been  five 
minutes  on  the  stage,  Norah  detected,  to  her 
own  indescribable  astonishment,  that  Magda- 
len had  audaciously  individualized  the  feeble 
amiability  of  "  Julia's "  character  by  seizing 
no  less  a  person  than  herself  as  tlie  model  to 
act  it  by.  She  saw  all  Iier  own  little  ibnnal 
peculiarities  of  manner  and  movement  un- 
biushingly  I'cproduced  —  and  even  the  very 
tone  of  l)er  voice  so  a;'curately  mimicked  from 
time  to  time  that  the  accents  startled  her  as 
if  she  was  speaking  herself,  with  an  echo  on 
the  stage.  The  effect  of  this  cool  appropria- 
tion of  Norah's  identity  to  theatrical  i)urposes 
on  the  audience  —  who  only  saw  results  — 
asserted  itself  in  a  storm  of  applause  on  Mag- 
dalen's exit.  She  liad  won  two  incontestable 
triumphs  in  her  first  scene.  By  a  dexterous 
piece  of  mimicry  she  had  made  a  living  reality 
of  one  of  the  most  insipid  characters  in  the 
English  drama,  and  she  had  i-oused  to  enthu- 
siasm an  audience  of  two  hundred  exiles  from 
the  blessings  of  ventilation,  all  sinunering  to- 
gether in  their  own  animal  heat.  Under  the 
circumstances,  where  is  the  actress  by  profes- 
sion who  could  have  done  much  more  '^ 

But  the  event  of  the  evening  was  still  to 
come.  Magdalen's  disguised  reappearance  at 
the  end  of  the  act,  in  the  cliaracter  of  "  Lucy" 
—  witli  false  hair  and  I'alse  eyebrows,  with 
a  bright-red  complexion  and  patches  on  her 
cheeks,  with  the  gayest  colors  Haunting  in 
her  dress,  and  the  shrillest  vivacity  of  voice 
and  manner  —  fairly  staggered  the  audience. 
They  looked  down  at  their  programmes,  in 
which,  the  representative  of  Lucy  figured  un- 
der an  assumed  name ;  looked  up  again  at  the 
stage;  penetrated  the  disguise;  and  vented 
their  astonishment  in  another  round  of  ap- 
plause, louder  and  heartier  even  than  the  last. 
Norah  herself  could  not  denj^  this  time  that 
the  tribute  of  ajiprobation  had  been  v/ell  de- 
served. There,  forcing  its  way  steadily  tlu'ough 
all  the  faults  of  inexperience  —  there,  plainly 


visible  to  the  dullest  of  the  spectators,  was  the 
rare  faculty  of  dramatic  impersonation,  ex- 
pressing itself,  in  every  look  and  action  of  this 
girl  of  eighteen,  who  now  stood  on  a  stage  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life.  Failing  in  many 
minor  requisites  of  the  double  task  which  she 
had  undertaken,  she  succeeded  in  the  one 
important  necessity  of  keeping  the  main  dis- 
tinctions of  the  two  characters  thoroughly 
apart.  Everybody  felt  that  the  difficulty  lay 
here  —  everybody  saw  the  difficulty  conquer- 
ed—  everybody  echoed  the  manager's  enthu- 
siasm at  rehearsal,  which  had  hailed  her  as  a 
born  actress. 

When  the  drop-scene  descended  for  the  first 
time  Magdalen  had  concentrated  in  herself 
the  Avhole  interest  and  attraction  of  the  play. 
The  audience  politely  applauded  ]\Iiss  Marra- 
ble,  as  became  the  guests  assembled  in  her 
father's  house,  and  good-himioredly  encoui'- 
aged  the  remainder  of  the  company  to  help 
them  througli  a  task  for  which  they  were  ail, 
more  oi-  less,  palj)ably  unfit.  But  as  the  play 
proceeded  nothing  roused  them  to  any  genu- 
ine expression  of  interest  when  Magdalen  was 
abocnt  from  the  scene.  There  was  no  dis- 
guising it:  Miss  Marrable  and  her  bosom 
friends  had  been  all  hopelessly  cast  in  the 
shade  by  the  new  recruit  whom  they  had  sum- 
moned to  assist  them  in  the  capacity  of  for- 
lorn hope.  And  this  on  Miss  Marrable's  own 
birthday  !  and  this  in  her  father's  house  !  and 
this  after  the  unutterable  sacrifices  of  six  weeks 
past !  Of  all  the  domestic  disasters  Avhich  the 
thankless  theatrical  enterprise  had  infiicted 
on  the  Marrable  family,  the  crowning  mis- 
fortune was  now  consummated  by  Magdalen's 
success. 

Leaving  Mr."  Vanstone  and  Norah,  on  the 
conclusion  of  the  play,  among  the  guests  in 
the  supper-rot)m,  Miss  Garth  went  behind  the 
scenes :  ostensibly  anxious  to  see  if  she  could 
be  of  any  use  ;  really  bent  on  ascertaining 
whether  Magdalen's  head  had  been  turned  by 
the  triumphs  of  the  evening.  It  would  not  have 
sur2)rised  Miss  Garth  if  she  had  discovered 
her  pupil  in  the  act  of  making  terms  wit;h  the 
manager  for  her  forthcoming  aj)pearance  in  a 
public  theatre.  As  events  really  turned  out 
she  found  Magdalen  on  the  stage,  receiving 
with  gracious  smiles  a  card  which  the  man- 
ager presented  to  her  with  a  professional  bow. 
Noticing  Miss  Garth's  mute  look  of  inquiry, 
the  civil  little  man  hastened  to  explain  that 
the  card  was  his  own,  and  that  he  was  merely 
asking  the  favor  of  Miss  Vanstone's  recom- 
mendation at  any  future  opportunity. 

"  This  is  not  the  last  time  the  young  lady 
will  be  concerned  in  private  theatricals,  I  '11 
answer  for  it,"  said  the  manager.  "  And  if  a 
superintendent  Is  wanted  on  the  next  occa- 
sion, she  has  kindly  promised  to  say  a  good 
word  for  me.  I  am  always  to  be  heai*d  of, 
Miss,  at  that  address."  Saying  those  words, 
he  bowed  again,  and  discreetly  disappeared. 

Vague  suspicions  beset  the  mind  of  Mis8 


NO  NAME. 


25 


Garth,  and  nrijcd  her  to  insist  on  looking  at 
•the  card.  No  more  harmless  morsel  of  paste- 
board wns  ever  passed  from  one  hand  to 
another.  The  card  contained  nothing  but  the 
manager's  name,  and  -under  it  the  name  and 
address  of  a  theatrical  agent  in  London. 

'*  It  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  keeping," 
said  Miss  Gartli. 

jAIagdaleti  caught  her  hand  before  she  could 
throw  the,  card  away,  possessed  herself  of  it 
tile  next  instant,  and  ])ut  it  in  her  pocket. 

"  T  ])roinised  to  reconunend  him,"  she  said  ; 
''  and  that  's  one  reason  for  keeping  his  card. 
If  it  does  nothing  else,  it  Avill  remind  me  of  the 
hapjiiest  evening  of  my  life — and  that 's  anoth- 
er, ("ome !"  she  cried,  throwing  her  arms 
I'ound  Miss  (iarth  with  a  feverish  gayety — 
•'congratulate  me  on  my  success!" 

"  I  will  congratulate  yon  when  yon  have  got 
over  it,"  said  IMiss  Garth. 

In  half  an  hour  more  Alagdalen  had  changed 
her  dress,  had  joined  the  guests,  and  had  .soareil 
into  an  atmosphere  of  congratulation  high 
above  the  reach  of  any  controlling  influence 
that  I\Iiss  (iarth  could  exercise.  Frank,  dila- 
tory in  all  his  pioceedings,  was  the  last  of  the 
dramatic  company  who  left  the  precincts  of 
the  stage.  He  made  no  attempt  to  join  IMag- 
dalen  in  the  supper-room ;  but  he  was  ready 
in  the  hall,  with  lier  cloak,  when  the  carriages 
were  callcil  and  tlie  party  broke  up. 

"  Oh,  Frank  !"  she  said,  looking  round  at 
him  as  lie  ]m\  the  cloak  on  her  shoulders,  "  I 
am  .so  sorry  it  's  all  over !  Come;  to-morrow 
morning,  and  let  's  t;i!k  about  it  by  ourselves." 

"  In  the  shrubbery  at  ten  (""asked  Frank,  in 
a  whisper. 

She  drew  up  the  hood  of  her  cloak  and  nod- 
ded to  him  gayly.  Miss  Garth,  standing  near. 
noticed  the  looks  that  passed  between  them, 
though  the  disturbance  made  by  the  jiarting 
guests  prevented  her  from  hearing  the  words. 
There  was  a  soft,  underlying  tenderness  in 
Magdalen's  assumed  gayety  of  manner — there 
■was  a  sudden  thoughtfulness  in  her  face,  a 
confidential  readinessin  her  hand,  as  she  took 
Frank's  arm  and  went  out  to  tlie  carriage. 
What  did  it  me;in  V  Had  her  passing  interest 
in  him  as  her  stage-pupil  treacherously  sown 
th<'  seeds  of  any  deeper  interest  in  him  as  a 
man  V  IIa<l  the  idle  theatrical  scheme,  now 
that  it  was  all  over,  gravei-  result.s  to  answer 
for  than  a  mischievous  %vaste  of  time  V 

The  lines  on  Miss  (iarth's  i'mo.  deepened  and 
hardened;  she  stood  lost  among  the  (luttering 
crowd  around  her.  Norah's  warning  words, 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Vansfone  in  the  garden,  re- 
curred to  her  memory;  and  now  for  the  first 
time  the  idea  dawned  on  her  that  Norah  had 
seen  consequences  in  their  true  light. 


CIIAPTKR  VII. 

Early   the  next  morning  Miss   Garth   and 
Norah  met  in  the  garden,  and  spoke  together 

4, 


privately.  The  only  noticeable  result  of  the 
interview,  when  they  presented  them.selves  at 
the  breakftist-table,  apjxsvred  in  the  marked 
I  silence  which  they  both  maintained  on  the 
topic  of  the  theatrical  ]>erformance.  Mrs. 
Vanstone  was  entirely  indebted  to  her  husband 
and  to  her  younger  "daughter  for  all  that  she 
heard  of  the  evening's  "entertainment.  The 
governess  and  the  elder  daughter  had  evident- 
ly determined  on  letting  the  subject  drop. 

After  breakfast  was  over,  Magdalen  proved 
to  be  missing  when  the  ladies  assembled  as 
usual  in  the  morning-room.  Her  habits  were 
so  little  regular  that  Mrs.  Vanstone  felt  nei- 
ther snr])rise  nor  uneasiness  at  her  absence. 
]\Iiss  Garth  and  Norah  looked  at  one  another 
significantly,  and  waited  in  silence.  Two 
hours  passed,  and  there  were  no  sign.s  of  Maor- 
dalen.  Norah  rose  as  the  clock  struck  twelve, 
and  (piietly  l(>ft  the  room  to  look  for  her. 

She  was  not  up  stairs,  dusting  her  jewelry 
and  disarranging  her  dresses.  She  was  not  in 
the  conservatory,  not  in  the  flower-garden; 
not  in  the  kitchen,  teasing  the  cook ;  not  in 
the  yard,  playing  with  the  dogs.  Had  .she  by 
any  chance  gone,  out  with  her  father  ?  Mr. 
Vanstone  had  announced  his  intention,  at  the 
breakfast-table,  of  ]iaying  a  morning  visit  to 
his  ohl  ally,  i\Ir.  C'lare,  and  of  rousing  the 
philosopher's  sarcastic  indignation  by  an  ac- 
count of  the  dramatic  performance.  None  of 
the  other  ladies  at  Combe-llaven  ever  ven- 
tured themselves  inside  the  cottage.  But 
Magdalen  was  reckless  enough  for  anything, 
and  Magdalen  might  have  gone  there.  As 
the  idea  occurred  to  her  Norah  entered  the 
shrubbery. 

At  the  second  turning,  where  the  path 
among  the  trees  wound  away  out  of  sight  of 
the  house,  she  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with 
Magdalen  and  Frank  ;  they  were  sauntering 
toward  her  arm  in  arm,  their  heads  close 
together,  their  conversation  apparently  pro- 
<'eeding  in  whispers.  They  looked  su5-piciousIy 
handsome  and  ho[)py.  At  the  sight  of  Xorah 
both  starte<l,  and  both  stopped.  Frank  con- 
fusedly raised  his  hat.  and  turned  back  in  the 
direction  of  his  father's  cottage.  Magd.alen 
advanced  to  meet  her  sister,  carelessly  swing- 
ing her  closed  parasol  from  side  to  side,  care- 
lessly hTinnning  an  air  from  the  overture  which 
had  preceded  the  rising  of  the  curtain  on  the 
previous  night. 

"  Luncheon-time  already  !"  she  said,  looking 
at  her  watch.     "  Surely  not  ?" 

"  Have  you  and  Mr.  Francis  Clare  been 
alone  in  the  shrubbery  since  ten  o'clock?" 
asked  Norah. 

"  Afr.  Francis  Clare  I  How  ridiculously 
formal  you  are !  Why  don't  you  call  him 
Frank  ?" 

"  I  askr-d  you  a  question,  Magdalen." 

"  Dear  nie,  how  black  you  k»ok  this  morn- 
ing !  I  'm  in  disgrace,  I  suppose.  Haven't 
vou  forgiven  mc  yet  for  my  acting  last  night? 
1  couldn't  help  it,  love ;  1  should  have  made 


26 


NO  NAME. 


nothing  of  Julia  if  I  hadn't  taken  you  for  my 
model.  It  's  quite  a  question  of  Art.  In 
your  place,  I  should  have  felt  flattered  by  the 
selection." 

"  In  your  place,  Magdalen,  I  should  have 
thought  twice  before  I  mimicked  my  sister  to 
an  audience  of  strangers." 

"  That  's  exactly  why  I  did  it— an  audience 

of    strangers.      How   were    they   to    know  ? 

Come  !  come  !  don't  be  angry.    You  are  eight 

years  older  than  I  am — you  ought  to  set  mo 

.  an  example  of  good  humor." 

"  I  will  set  you  an  example  of  plain  speak- 
ing. I  am  moi'c  sorry  than  I  can  say,  Magda- 
len, to  meet  you  as  I  met  you  here  just  now  !" 

"  What  next,  I  wonder  ?  You  meet  me  in 
the  shrubbery  at  home  talking  over  the  private 
theatricals  with  my  old  play-fellow,  whom  I 
knew  when  I  was  no  taller  tlian  this  parasol. 
And  that  is  a  glaring  impropriety,  is  it '.''  Honi 
soit  qui  mal  y  pense.  You  wanted  an  answer 
a  minute  ago  —  there  it  is  for  you,  my  dear,  in 
the  choicest  Norman  French." 

"  I  am  in  earnest  about  this,  Magdalen — " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it.  Nobody  can  accuse 
you  of  ever  making  jokes." 

"  I  am  seriously  sorry — " 

"  Oh  dear !" 

"  It  is  quite  useless  to  interrupt  me.  I  have 
it  on  my  conscience  to  tell  you  —  and  I  will 
tell  you  —  that  I  am  sorry  to  see  how  this  inti- 
macj'  is  growing.  I  am  sorry  to  see  a  secret 
understanding  established  already  between 
you  and  Mr.  Francis  Clare." 

"  Poor  Frank !  How  you  do  hate  him,  to 
be  sure  !  What  on  earth  has  he  done  to 
offend  you  ?" 

Norah's  self-control  began  to  show  signs  of 
failing  her.  Her  dark  cheeks  glowed,  her 
delicate  lips  trembled,  before  she  spoke  again. 
Magdalen  paid  more  attention  to  her  parasol 
than  to  her  sister.  She  tossed  it  high  in  the 
air  and  caught  it.  "  Once  !"  she  said  —  and 
tossed  it  up  again.  "  Twice"  —  and  she  toss- 
ed it  higher.  "  Thrice — !"  Before  she  could 
catch  it  for  the  third  time  Norah  seized  her 
passionately  by  the  arm,  and  the  parasol 
dropped  to  the  ground  between  them. 

"  You  are  treating  me  heartlessly,"  she 
^said.     "For  shame  Magdalen  —  for  shame!" 

The  irrepressible  outburst  of  a  reserved 
nature,  forced  into  open  self-assertion  in  its 
own  despite,  is,  of  all  moral  forces,  the  hardest 
to  resist.  Magdalen  was  startled  into  silence. 
For  a  moment  the  two  sisters — so  strangely 
dissimilar  in  person  and  character  —  faced 
one  another,  without  a  word  passing  between 
them.  For  a  moment  the  deep  brown  eyes  of 
the  elder  and  the  light  gray  eyes  of  the  younger 
looked  into  each  other  with  steady,  unyielding 
scrutiny  on  either  side.  Norah's  face  was  the 
first  to  change.  Norah's  head  was  the  first  to 
turn  away.  She  dropped  her  sister's  arm  in 
silence.  Magdalen  stooped  and  picked  up  her 
parasol. 

"  Ltry  to  keep  my  temper,"  she  said,  "and 


you  call  me  heartless  for  doing  it.     You  al- 
ways were  hard  on  me,  and  you  always  will . 
be." 

Norah  clasped  her  trembling  hands  fast  in 
each  other.  "  Hard  on  you!"  she  said,  in  low, 
mournful  tones — and  sighed  bitterly. 

Magdalen  drew  back  a  little,  and  mechani- 
cally dusted  the  parasol  with  the  end  of  her 
garden  cloak. 

"  Yes  !"  she  resumed,  doggedly.  "  Hard  on 
me,  and  hard  on  Frank." 

"  Frank  !"  repeated  Norah,  advancing  on 
her  sister,  and  turning  pale  as  suddenly  as  she 
had  turned  red.  "Do  you  talk  of  yourself 
and  Frank  as  if  your  interests  were  One  al- 
ready ?  Magdalen  !  if  I  hurt  you,  do  I  hurt 
him?  Is  he  so  near  and  so  dear  to  you  as 
that  ?" 

Magdalen  drew  farther  and  farther  back.  A 
twig  Irom  a  tree  near  caught  her  cloak ;  she 
turned  petulantly,  broke  it  off,  and  threw  it 
on  the  ground.  "  What  right  have  you  to 
question  me  ?"  she  broke  out  on  a  sudden. 
"  Whether  I  like  Frank,  or  whether  I  don't, 
what  interest  is  it  of  yours  ?"  As  she  said  the 
words  she  abruptly  stepped  forward  to  pass 
her  sister  and  return  to  the  house. 

Norah,  turning  paler  and  paler,  barred  the 
way  to  her.  "  If  I  hold  you  by  main  force," 
she  said,  "  you  shall  stop  and  hear  me.  I  have 
watched  this  Francis  Clare  ;  I  know  him 
better  than  you  do.  He  is  unworthy  of  a 
moment's  serious  feeling  on  your  part ;  he  is 
unworthy  of  our  dear,  good,  kind-hearted 
father's  interest  in  him.  A  man  with  any 
principle,  any  honor,  any  gratitude,  would  not 
have  come  back  as  he  has  come  back,  dis- 
graced—  yes!  disgraced  by  his  spiritless  neg- 
lect of  his  own  duty.  I  watched  his  face 
while  the  friend  who  has  been  better  than  a 
father  to  him  was  comforting  and  forgiving 
him  with  a  kindness  he  had  not  deserved  :  I 
watched  his  face,  and  I  saw  no  shame  and  no 
distress  in  it  —  I  saw  nothing  but  a  look  of 
thankless,  heartless  relief  He  is  selfish,  he  is 
ungrateful,  he  is  ungenerous;  he  is  only 
twenty,  and  he  has  the  worst  failings  of  a 
mean  old  age  already.  And  this  is  the  man  I 
find  you  meeting  in  secret — the  man  who  has 
taken  such  a  place  in  your  favor  that  you  are 
deaf  to  the  truth  about  him,  even  from  my 
lips  !  Magdalen,  this  will  end  ill !  For  God's 
sake,  think  of  what  I  have  said  to  you,  and 
control  yourself  before  it  is  too  late!"  She 
stopped,  vehement  and  breathless,  and  caught 
her  sister  anxiously  by  the  hand. 

Magdalen  looked  at  her  in  unconcealed  as- 
tonishment. 

"  You  are  so  violent,"  she  said,  "  and  so  un- 
like yourself,  that  I  hardly  know  you.  The 
more  patient  I  am,  the  more  hard  words  I  get 
for  my  pains.  You  have  taken  a  perverse 
hatred  to  Frank,  and  you  are  unreasonably, 
angry  with  me  because  I  won't  hate  him  too. 
Don't,  Norah  !  you  hurt  my  hand." 

Norah  pushed  the  hand  from  her  contempt- 


NO  NAME. 


27 


uously.  "  I  shall  never  hurt  your  heart,"  she 
said — and  suddenly  turned  her  back  on  Mag- 
dalen as  she  spoke  the  words. 

There  was  a  momentary  pause.  Norah  kept 
lier  position.  Magdalen  looked  at  her  per- 
plexedly—  hesitated  —  then  walked  away  by 
herself  toward  tlie  house. 

At  the  turn  in  the  shrubbery  path  she  stop- 
ped and  looked  baek  uneasily.  "  Oh,  dear, 
dear!"  she  thought  to  hcrsi'lf,  "why  didn't 
Frank  go  wlien  I  told  him  ?"  She  hesitated, 
and  went  hat'k  a  few  steps.  "  There  's  Norah 
standing  on  her  dignity,  as  obstinate  as  ever." 
She  stopped  again.  "  What  had  I  better  do  ? 
I  liate  quarrelling:  I  think  I  '11  make  it  uj)." 
She  ventured  elose  to  her  sister,  and  touehed 
her  on  the  shoulder.  Norah  never  moved. 
"It  's  not  often  she  tlics  into  a  passion," 
thought  Magdalen,  touching  her  again  ;  "  but 
when  she  does,  wliat  a  time  it  lasts  her ! 
Come !"  she  said,  "  give  me  a  kiss,  Norah,  and 
make  it  up.  Won't  you  let  me  get  at  any  part 
of  you,  my  dear,  but  the  back  of  your  neck  ? 
Well,  it  's  a  very  nice  neck — it  's  belter  worth 
kissing  than  mine — and  there  the  kiss  is,  in 
spite  of  you  !" 

She  caught  fast  hold  of  Norah  from  behind, 
and  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  with  a  total 
disregard  of  all  that  had  just  passed,  which 
her  sister  was  tar  from  emulating.  Hardly  a 
minute  since  the  warm  outpouring  of  Norah's 
heart  had  burst  through  all  obstacles.  Had 
the  icy  reserve  frozen  her  u]»  again  already  ! 
It  was  hard  to  say.  She  never  spoke ;  she 
never  changed  her  position — she  only  searched 
hurriedly  for  her  handkerchief.  As  she  di-ew 
it  out  there  was  a  sound  of  approaching  foot- 
steps in  the  inner  recesses  of  the  shrubbery. 
A  Scotch  terrier  scampered  into  view  :  and  a 
cheerful  voice  sang  the  first  lines  of  the  glee 
in '^As  You  Like  It."  "It  's  papa!"  cried 
Magdalen.  "Come,  Norah  —  come  and  meet 
him." 

Instead  of  following  her  sister,  Norah  pulled 
down  the  veil  of  her  garden  hat,  turned  in 
the  opposite  direction,  and  hurried  back  to 
the  house. 

Slie  ran  up  to  her  own  room,  and  locked 
herself  in.     She  was  crying  bitterly. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

When  Magdalen  and  her  father  met  in  the 
slirubbcry  Mr.  Vanstonc's  face  showed  plainly 
that  something  had  happened  to  please  him 
since  he  had  left  home  m  the  morning.  He 
answered  the  cpiesfion  which  his  daughter's 
curiosity  at  once  addressed  to  him,  by  inform- 
ing her  that  he  Iiad  just  come  from  Mr.  Clare's 
cottage;  and  that  he  had  picked  up,  in  that 
unpromising  locality,  a  startling  piece  of  news 
for  the  family  at  Combe-Raven. 

On  entering  the  philosopher's  study  that 
morning,   Mr.   Vanstone  had  found  him  still 


dawdling  over  his  late  breakfast,  with  an  open 
letter  by  his  side,  in  place  of  the  book  which, 
on  other  occasions,  lay  ready  to  his  hand  at 
mealtimes.  He  held  up  the  letter  the  moment 
his  visitor  came  into  the  room,  and  abruptly 
opened  the  conversation  by  asking  Mr.  Van- 
stone  if  his  nerves  were  in  good  order,  and  if 
he  felt  himself  strong  enough  for  the  shock  of 
an  overwhelming  .surprise. 

"  Nerves  ?"  repeated  ]\Ir.  Vanstone.  "  Thank 
God,  I  know  nothing  about  my  nerves.  If 
you  have  got  anything  to  tell  me,  shock  or  no 
shock,  out  with  it  on  the  spot." 

Mr.    Clare    held  the  letter  a  little  higher, 
and   frowned  at  his  visitor  across  the  break-  • 
fast  table.     "  W^hat  have  I  always  told  you  V" 
he  asked,  witli  his  sourest  solemuity  of  look 
and  manner. 

"  A  great  deal  more  than  I  could  ever  keep 
in  my  head,"  answered  Mr.  Vanstone. 

"  In  your  presence  and  out  of  it,"  continued 
Mr.  Clare,  "  I  have  always  maintained  that 
the  one  important  phenomenon  presented  by 
modern  society  is  —  the  enormous  prosperity 
of  Fools.  Sliow  me  an  individual  Fool,  and 
I  will  show  you  an  aggregate  Society  which 
gives  that  highly  -  favored  personage  nine 
chances  out  of  ten  —  and  grudges  tlie  tenth 
to  the  wisest  man  in  existence.  liook  where 
you  will,  in  every  high  place  there  sits  an 
Ass,  settled  beyond  the  reach  of  all  the  great- 
est intellects  in  tliis  world  to  pull  him  down. 
Over  our  whole  social  system  complacent  Im- 
becility rules  supreme  —  snuiFs  out  the  search- 
ing light  of  Intelligence  witli  total  impunity — 
and  hoots,  owl-like,  in  answer  to  every  form 
of  protest,  See  how  well  we  all  do  in  the 
dark  !  One  of  these  days  that  audacious  as- 
sertion will  be  practically  contrailicted,  and 
the  whole  rotten  system  of  modern  society- 
will  come  down  with  a  crash." 

"  God  forbid  I"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone,  looking 
about  him  as  if  the  crash  was  coming  already. 

"  With  a  crash  !"  repeated  I\Ir.  Clare. 
"  There  is  my  theory  in  few  words.  Now  for 
the  remarkable  a])plication  of  it,  which  this 
letter  suggests.     Here  is  my  lout  of  a  boy — " 

"  You  don't  mean  that  Fi-ank  has  got  an- 
other chance  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Vaus-oiie. 

"  Here  is  this  perfectly  liopclcss  booby, 
Frank,"  pursued  the  philosopher.  "  He  has 
never  done  anything  in  his  life  to  help  him- 
self, and,  as  a  necessary  con.-cqucncc.  Society 
is  in  a  conspiracy  to  carry  him  to  the  top  of 
the  tree.  He  has  hardly  had  time  to  throw- 
away  that  chance  you  gave  him  before  this  ; 
letter  comes  and  puts  the  ball  at  his  foot  for 
the  second  time.  My  rich  cousin  (who  is  in- 
tellectuallv  fit  to  be  at  the  tail  of  the  family, 
and  who  Is  theretbre,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
at  the  head  of  it)  has  been  good  enough  to 
remember  my  existence,  and  has  offered  his 
inlluence  to  serve  my  eldest  boy.  Read  his  let- 
ter, and  then  observe  the  sequence  of  events. 
IMy  rich  cousin  is  a  booby  who  thrives  on 
landed  property;  he  has  done  something  for- 


28 


KO  NAME. 


aiiolliur  booby  who  thrives  on  Politics,  who 
knows  a  third  booby  who  thrives  on  Com- 
merce, who  can  do  sometliing  for  a  fourth 
booby,  tlirivin.o-  at  present  on  nothing,  wliose 
name  is  Frank.  So  the  mill  goes.  So  the 
cream  of  all  human  rewards  is  sipped  in  endless 
succession  by  the  Fools.  T  shall  pack  Fi'ank 
off"  to-morrow.  In  course;  of  time  he  '11  come 
back  again  on  our  hands,  like  a  bad  sliilling; 
more  chances  will  fall  in  his  way  as  a  neces- 
Bary  consequence  of  his  meritorious  imbecility. 
Years  mmII  go  on — I  may  not  live  to  see  it,  no 
more  may  you  —  it  doesn't  matter;  Frank's 
future  is  equally  certain  either  way  —  put  him 
into  the  army,  fhe  Church,  politics,  what  you 
please,  and  let  him  drift :  he  '11  end  in  being 
a  ge'iieral,  a  bishop,  or  a  minister  of  state,  by 
dint  of  the  great  modern  qualification  of  doing 
nothing  whatever  to  deserve  his  place."  With 
this  summary  of  his  son's  worldly  prospects 
Mr.  Clare  tossed  the  letter  contemptuously 
across  the  table,  and  poured  himself  out  an- 
other cup  of  tea. 

Mr.  Vans! one  read  the  letter  with  eager 
interest  and  pleasure.  It  was  written  in  a 
tone  of  somewhat  elaborate  cordiality ;  but 
the  practical  advantages  whicli  it  pla(;ed  at 
Frank's  disposal  were  beyond  all  doubt.  The 
writer  had  the  means  of  using  a  friend's  inter- 
est—  interest  of  no  ordinary  kind  —  with  a 
great  Mercantile  ]"irm  in  the  (jity,  and  lie 
had  at  once  exerted  this  influence  in  favor  of 
Mr.  Clare's  eldest  boy.  Fjank  would  be  re- 
ceived in  the  office  on  a  very  ditferent  footing 
fiom  the  footing  of  an  oniinary  clerk ;  he 
would  be  "  pushed  on "  at  every  available 
opportunity;  and  the  first  "good  thing"  the 
House  had  to  offer,  either  at  home  or  abroad, 
would  be  placed  at  his  disposal.  If  he  pos- 
sessed fair  abilities,  and  showed  common  dili- 
gence in  exercising  them,  his  fortune  was 
made  ;  and  the  sooner  he  was  sent  to  London 
to  begin,  the  better  for  his  own  interests  it 
wouki  be. 

"  Wonderful  news !"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone. 
returning  the  letter.  "  I  'm  delighted — I  nujst 
go  back  and  tell  them  at  home.  This  is  fifty 
times  the  chance  that  mine  was.  What  the 
deuce  do  you  mean  by  abusing  Soi-iety  ? 
Society  has  behaved  unconnnouly  well,  in  my 
opinion.     Where's  Frank  V" 

"Lurking,"  said  Mr.  Clare.  "It  is  one  of 
the  intolerable  peculiarities  of  louts  that  they 
always  lurk.  I  liaven't  seen  my  lout  this 
morning.  If  you  meet  with  him  anj-where 
give  him  a  kick,  and  say  I  want  him." 

Mr.  Clare's  opinion  of  his  son's  habits  mitrht 
have  been  expresseil  more  politely  as  to  form  ; 
but  as  to  substance,  it  happened,  on  that  par- 
ticular morning,  to  be  perfectly  correct.  Afler 
leaving  Magdalen,  Frank  had  waited  in  the 
shrubbery,  at  a  safe  distance,  on  the  chance 
that  she  might  detach  herself  fi-om  her  sister's 
company  and  join  liim  again.  Mr.  Vanstone's 
appearance,  immediately  on  Norah's  depart- 


ure, instead  of  encouraging  him  to  show  liim- 
self,  liad  determined  him  on  i-eturning  to  the 
cottage.  He  walked  back  discontentedly,  and 
so  fell  into  his  father's  clutches,  totally  un- 
prepared for  the  pending  announcement,  in 
that  formidable  quarter,  of  his  departure  for 
London. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Vanstone  had  com- 
municated liis  news  —  in  the  first  place,  to 
Magdalen,  and  afterward,  on  getting  back  to 
the  house,  to  his  wife  and  Miss  Garth.  He 
was  too  unobservant  a  man  to  notice  that 
Magdalen  looked  unaccountably  startled,  and 
Aliss  Garth  unaccountably  relieved,  by  hit 
announcement  of  Frank's  good  fortune.  He 
talked  on  about  it  quite  unsuspiciously,  until 
the  luncheon-bell  rang — and  then  for  the  first 
time  he  noticed  Norah's  absence.  She  sent  a 
message  down  stairs,  after  they  had  assembled 
at  the  table,  to  say  that  a  headache  was  keep- 
ing her  in  her  own  room.  When  Miss  Garth 
went  up  shortly  afterward  to  communicate 
the  news  about  Frank,  Norah  ap})eared, 
sti-angely  enough,  to  feel  very  little  relieved 
by  hearing  it.  Mr.  Fi-ancis  Clare  had  gone 
away  on  a  former  occasion  (she  remarked), 
and  had  come  back.  He  migiit  come  back 
again,  and  sooner  than  they  any  of  them 
thought  for.  She  said  no  more  on  the  subject 
than  this:  no  reference  escaped  her  to  what 
had  taken  place  in  the  shrubbery.  Her  un- 
conquerable reserve  seemed  to  have  strength- 
ened its  hold  on  her  since  the  outburst  of  the 
morning.  She  met  Magdalen  later  in  the 
day,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  :  no  formal 
reconciliation  took  place  between  them.  It 
was  one  of  Norah's  peculiarities  to  shrink 
from  all  reconciliations  that  were  openly  rati- 
fied, and  to  take  her  shy  refuge  in  reconcilia- 
tions that  were  silently  implied.  Magdalen 
saw  plainly,  in  her  look  and  manner,  that  she 
had  made  her  first  and  last  protest.  Whether 
the  motive  was  j)ride,  or  sullenness,  or  distrust 
of  herself,  or  despair  of  doing  good,  the  result 
was  not  to  be  mistaken  —  Norah  had  resolved 
on  remaining  passive  for  the  future. 

Later  in  tlie  afternoon  Mr.  Vanstone  sug- 
gested a  drive  to  his  eldest  daughter  as  the 
best  remedy  foi'  her  headache.  She  readily 
consented  to  accompany  her  father,  who  there- 
ui)on  proposed,  as  usual,  that  Magdalen  should 
join  them.  Magdalen  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
For  the  second  time  that  day  she  had  wandered 
into  the  grounds  by  herself.  On  this  occa- 
sion Miss  Garth — who,  after  adopting  Norah's 
opinions,  had  passed  from  the  one  extreme  of 
overlooking  Frank  altogether,  to  the  other 
extreme  of  believing  him  capable  of  planning 
an  elopement  at  five  minutes'  notice — volun- 
teered to  set  forth  immediately  and  do  her 
best  to  find  the  missing  young  lady.  After  a 
prolonged  absence  she  returned  unsuccessful — 
with  the  strongest  persuasion  in  her  own  mind 
that  Magdalen  and  Frank  had  secretly  met 
one  another  somewhere,  but  without  having 
discovered  the  smallest  fi-asment  of  evidence 


NO  NAME. 


29 


to  confirm  her  suspicions.  By  this  time  the 
carriatTe  was  at  the  door,  and  Mr.  Vanstone 
M-as  unwiirm-;  to  wait  any  lonjrer.  Ho  and 
Norah  drove  away  together,  and  Mrs.  Van- 
stone  and  Miss  Garth  sat  at  h.omo  over  their 
work. 

In  half  an  hour  more  Magdalen  composedly 
■walked  into  the  room.  She  was  pale  and  de- 
pressed. She  received  Miss  (iarth's  remon- 
strances with  a  weary  inattention  ;  explained 
carelessly  that  she  had  been  wanderino-  in  the 
Avood;  took  up  some  books  and  ])ut  them  down 
aeain;  siudied  imi)atiently,  and  went  away  up 
stairs  to  her  own  room. 

"  I  liiink  INIagdalen  is  feeling  the  reaction 
after  yesterday,"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  quietly. 
'•It  is  just  as  we  thought.  Now  the  theatrical 
amusements  are  all  over,  she  is  fi-etting  foi- 
more."' 

Here  was  an  opportunity  of  letting  in  the 
light  of  truth  on  ]Mrs.  Vanstoue's  mind  which 
was  too  favorable  to  be  missed.  ]\liss  Garth 
questioned  her  conscience,  saw  her  chance, 
and  took  it  on  the  spot. 

"  Yon  forget,"  she  rejoined,  "  that  a  certain 
neighlior  of  ours  is  going  away  to-morrow. 
Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth  V  Magdalen  is  fret- 
ting over  the  dejjarture  of  Francis  Clare." 

ilrs.  Vanstone  looked  up  from  her  work 
with  a  gentle  smiling  surprise. 

"  Surely  not  V"  she  said.  "  It  is  natural 
enough  that  Frank  shoidd  be  attracted  by 
Magdalen  —  but  I  can't  think  that  Magdalen 
returns  the  feeling.  Frank  is  so  very  unlike 
her;  so  quiet  and  undemonstrative;  so  dull 
and  helpless,  poor  fellow  !  in  some  things.  He 
is  handsome,  I  know  ;  but  he  is  so  singularly 
unlike  Magilalcn  that  I  can't  think  it  pos- 
sible— I  can't,  indeed." 

"  My  dear  good  lady  !"  crie<l  Miss  Garth,  in 
great  ama/ement,  "  do  you  reallv  sup))Ose  that 
people  fall  in  love  wi'.ii  each  other  on  account 
of  similarities  in  tiieir  characters  •'  In  the 
vast  majority  of  cases  they  do  just  tln^  reverse. 
Men  marry  the  very  last  women,  and  women 
the  vcr}'  last  men,  whom  their  friends  would 
think  it  possible  they  could  care  about.  Is 
there  any  phrase  that  is  often(!r  on  all  our  lips 
than  '  What  can  hc-lve  made  Mr.  So-and-So 
marry  that  woman?'  or,  'How  could  Mrs. 
So-and-So  throw  herself  away  on  that  man  V 
Has  all  your  experience  of  the  world  never 
yet  shown  you  that  girls  take  jjervcrse  fancies 
for  men  who  are  totally  unworthy  of  them  V" 

"  \'ery  true,"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  com- 
posedly. '*  I  forgot  that.  Still  it  seems  un- 
accountable, doesn't  it  ?" 

"  I'naccountable,  because  it  happens  every 
day  I"  retorted  Miss  Garth,  good-humoredlv. 
"  I  know  a  great  many  excellent  jx-onle  who 
reason  against  plain  exji'-rioice  in  the  same 
way  —  who  read  the  newspapers  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  deny  in  the  evening  that  there  is  any 
romance  for  writers  or  painters  to  work  upon 
in  modern  life.  Seriously,  Mrs.  ^'anstone, 
you  may  take  my  word  lor  it —  thanks  to  those 


wretched  theatricals  —  Magdalen  is  going  the 
way  with  Frank  that  a  great  many  young 
ladies  have  gone  before  her.  He  is  (juite 
unworthy  of  her  ;  he  is  in  almost  every  re- 
spect her  exact  opposite — and,  without  know- 
ing it  herself,  she  has  fallen  in  love  with  him 
on  that  very  account.  She  is  resolute  and 
impetuous,  clever  and  domineering;  she  is  not 
one  of  tliose  model  women  who  want  a  man 
to  look  up  to,  and  to  protect  them — her  beau- 
ideal  (though  she  may  not  think  it  herself)  is 
a  man  she  can  hen-peck.  AVell !  one  comfort 
is,  there  are  far  better  men,  even  of  that  sort, 
to  be  had  than  Frank.  It's  a  mercy  he  is 
going  away  before  we  have  more  trouble 
with  thi'ui,  and  before  any  sei'ious  mischief  is 
done." 

"  Poor  Frank  !"  said  Mrs.  A'anstone.  smiling 
compassionately.  "  We  havi>  known  him  since 
he  was  in  jackets  and  Magdalen  in  short 
frocks.  Don't  let  us  give  him  up  yet.  He  may 
do  lietter  this  second  time." 

]Miss  (iartli  looked  up  in  astonishment. 

"  And  sui)pose  he  does  better  V"  she  asked. 
"  What  then  y" 

Mrs.  ^'anstone  cut  off  a  loose  thread  in  her 
work,  and  laughed  outright. 

"  M}'  good  friend,"  she  said,  "there  is  an 
old  farm-yard  ]>roverb  which  warns  us  not  to 
count  our  chickens  before  they  are  hatched. 
Let  us  wait  a  little  before  we  count  ours." 

It  was  not  easy  to  silence  ^fiss  Garth  when 
she  was  sjjeaking  under  the  influence  of  a 
strong  conviction,  but  this  reply  closed  her 
lips.  She  resumed  her  work,  and  looked  and 
thought  unutterable  things. 

Mrs.  ^'anston■c"s  behavior  was  certainly  re- 
markable under  the  circumstances.  Here,  on 
one  side,  was  a  girl —  with  great  ])ersonal  at- 
tractions, with  rare  pecuniary  ])rospects,  with 
a  social  j)osition  which  might  have  justified 
the  best  gentleman  in  the  neighborhood  in 
making  her  an  of1\'r  of  marriage  —  perversely 
casting  hei'self  away  on  a  penniless  idle  young 
fellow,  M'iio  had  failed  at  his  first  start  in  life, 
and  who.  even  if  he  succeeded  in  his  second 
attempt,  must  be  for  years  to  come  in  no  posi- 
tion to  marry  a  young  lady  of  fortune  on  equal 
terms.  And  there,  on  the  otlier  side,  was  that 
girl's  mother,  by  no  means  dismayed  at  the 
prospeet  of  a  connection  which  was,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  far  from  desirable;  by  no  means 
certain,  judging  her  by  her  own  words  and 
looks,  that  a  marriage  between  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  daughter  and  Mr.  Clare's  .son  might 
not  prove  to  be  as  satisfactory  a  result  of  the 
intimacy  between  the  two  young  ])cople  as 
the  parents  on  both  sides  could  possibly  wish 
lor!  It  was  perplexing  in  the  extreme.  It 
was  almost  as  unintelligible  as  that  past  mys- 
tery—  that  forgotten  mystery  now  —  of  the 
journey  to  London. 

In  the  evening  Frank  made  his  aj)pearance, 
and  announced  that  his  father  had  mercilesslr 
sentenced  him  to  leave  Combt^-Kaven  by  the 
parliamentary   train  the  next  morning.     He 


30 


NO  NAME. 


mentioned  this  circumstance  with  an  air  of 
sentimental  resijrnation,  and  listened  to  Mr. 
Vanstone's  boisterous  rejoicings  over  his  new 
prospects  with  a  mild  and  mute  surprise.  His 
gentle  melancholy  of  look  and  manner  greatly 
assisted  his  personal  advantages.  In  his  own 
effeminate  way  he  T\'as  more  handsome  than 
ever  that  evening.  His  soft  brown  eyes  wan- 
dered about  the  room  with  a  melting  tender- 
ness ;  his  hair  was  beautifully  brushed ;  his 
delicate  hands  hung  over  the  arms  of  his  chair 
with  a  languid  grace.  He  looked  like  a  con- 
valescent Apollo.  Never,  on  any  previous 
occasion,  hail  he  practiced  more  successfullv 
the  social  art  which  he  habitually  cultivated — 
the  art  of  casting  himself  on  society  in  the 
character  of  a  well-bred  Incubus,  and  confer- 
ring an  obligation  on  his  fellow-creatures  by 
allowing  them  to  sit  under  him.  It  was  unde- 
niably a  dull  evening.  All  the  talking  fell  to 
the  share  of  Mr.  Vanstone  and  Miss  Garth. 
Mrs.  Vanstone  was  habitually  silent ;  Norah 
kept  herself  obstinately  in  the  back-ground ; 
Magdalen  was  quiet  and  undemonstrative 
beyond  all  former  precedent.  Fi-om  first  to 
last  she  kept  rigidly  on  her  guard.  The  few 
meaning  looks  that  she  cast  on  Frank  flashed 
at  him  like  lightning,  and  were  gone  before 
any  one  else  could  see  them.  Even  when  she 
brought  liim  his  tea,  and  when,  in  doing  so, 
her  self-control  gave  way  under  the  tempta- 
tion which  no  woman  can  resist  — the  tempta- 
tion of  touching  the  man  she  loves — even  then 
she  held  the  saucer  so  dextrously  that  it 
screened  her  hand.  Frank's  self-possession 
was  far  less  steadily  disciplined  ;  it  only  lasted 
as  long  as  he  remained  passive.  When  he 
rose  to  go — when  he  felt  the  warm,  clinging 
pressure  of  IMagdalen's  fingers  round  his  hand 
and  the  lock  of  her  hair,  which  she  slipped 
into  it  at  the  same  moment,  he  became  aAvk- 
ward  and  confused.  He  might  have  betrayed 
Magdalen  and  betrayed  himself  but  for  Mr. 
Vanstone,  who  innocently  covered  his  retreat 
by  following  him  out,  and  patting  him  on  the 
shoulder  all  the  way.  "  God  bless  you,  Frank  !" 
cried  the  friendly  voice,  that  never  had  a 
harsh  note  in  it  for  anybody.  "  Your  for- 
tune 's  waiting  for  you.  Go  in,4tny  boy  —  go 
in  and  win  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank.  "  Thank  you.  It  will 
be  rather  difficult  to  go  in  and  win  at  first.  Of 
course,  as  you  have  always  told  me,  a  man's 
business  is  to  conquer  his  difliculties,  and  not 
to  talk  about  them.  At  the  same  time,  I  wish 
I  didn't  feel  quite  so  loose  as  I  do  in  my  figures. 
It's  discouraging  to  feel  loose  in  one's  figures. 
Oh,  yes ;  I  '11  write  and  tell  you  how  I  get  on. 
I  'm  very  mw_-h  obliged  by  your  kindness,  and 
very  sorry  I  couldn't  succeed  with  the  engi- 
neering. I  think  I  should  have  liked  engineer- 
ing better  than  trade.  It  can't  be  helped 
now,  can  it  ?     Thank  you  again.     Good-by  !" 

So  he  drifted  away  into  the  misty  commer- 
cial future,  as  aimless,  as  helpless,  as  gentle- 
manlike as  ever. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Three  months  passed.  During  that  time 
Frank  remained  in  London  pursuing  his  new 
duties,  and  writing  occasionally  to  report  him- 
self to  Mr.  A'^anstone,  as  he  had  promised. 

His  letters  were  not  enthusiastic  on  the  sub- 
ject of  mercantile  occupations.  He  described 
himself  as  being  still  painfully  loose  in  his  fig- 
ures. He  was  also  more  firmly  persuaded  than 
ever  —  now  when  it  was  unfortunately  too 
late  —  that  he  preferred  engineering  to  trade. 
In  spite  of  tliis  conviction;  in  spite  of  head- 
aches, caused  by  sitting  on  a  high  stool  and 
stooping  over  ledgers  in  unwholesome  air;  in 
spite  of  want  of  society,  and  hasty  breakfasts, 
and  bad  dinners  at  chop-houses,  his  attend- 
ance at  the  office  was  regular,  and  his  dili- 
gence at  the  desk  unremitting.  The  head  of 
the  dejiartment  in  which  he  was  working 
might  be  referred  to,  if  any  corroboration  of 
this  statement  was  desired.  Such  was  the 
general  tenor  of  the  letters,  and  Frank's  cor- 
respondent and  Frank's  father  differed  over 
them  as  widely  as  usual.  Mr.  Vanstone  ac- 
cepted them,  as  proofs  of  the  steady  develop- 
ment of  industrious  principles  in  the  writer. 
i\Ir.  Clare  took  his  own  characteristically  op- 
posite view.  "  These  London  men,"  said  the 
philosopher,  "  are  not  to  be  trifled  with  by 
louts.  They  have  got  Frank  by  the  scruff  of 
the  neck — he  can't  wriggle  himself  free — and 
he  makes  a  merit  of  yielding  to  sheer  ne- 
cessity." 

Tiie  three  months'  interval  of  Frank's  pro- 
bation in  London  passed  less  cheerfully  than 
usual  in  the  household  at  Combe-Raven. 

As  the  summer  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
Mrs.  Vanstone's  spirits,  in  spite  of  her  resolute 
efforts  to  control  them,  became  more  and  more 
depressed.  "I  do  my  best,"  she  said  to  Miss 
Garth  ;  "  I  set  an  example  of  cheerfulness  to 
my  husband  and  my  children  ;  but  I  dread 
July."  Norah's  secret  misgivings  on  her  sis- 
ter's account  i-endered  her  more  than  usually 
serious  and  unconununicative  as  the  year  ad- 
vanced. Even  Mr.  Vanstone,  when  July  drew 
nearer,  lost  something  of  his  elasticity  of  spirit. 
He  kept  up  appearances  in  his  wife's  pres- 
ence, but  on  all  other  occasions  there  was  now 
a  perceptible  shade  of  sadness  in  his  loojc  and 
manner.  INIagdalen  was  so  changed  since . 
Frank's  departure  that  she  helped  the  general 
depression  instead  of  relieving  it.  All  her 
movements  had  grown  languid;  all  her  usual 
occupations  were  pursued  with  the  same 
weary  indifference;  she  spent  hours  alone  in 
her  own  room;  she  lost  her  interest  in  being 
brightly  and  prettily  dressed ;  her  eyes  were 
heavy,  her  nerves  were  irritable,  her  complex- 
ion was  altered  visibly  for  the  worse  — in  one 
word,  she  had  become  an  oppression  and  a 
weariness  to  herself  and  to  all  about  he'r. 
Stoutly  as  Miss  Garth  contended  with  these 
growing  domestic  difficulties,  her  own  spirits 
suffered  in  the  effort.     Her  memory  reverted 


NO  NAJME. 


31 


oftener  and  oftener  to  the  March  morning 
■when  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house 
had  departed  for  London,  and  when  the  first 
serious  change  for  many  years  j)ast  had  stolen 
over  tlie  faniily  atmosphere.  When  was  that 
atmosphere  to  be.  clear  again  ?  When  were 
the  clouds  of  change  to  pass  off  before  the  re- 
turning sunshine  of  past  and  happier  times  V 

The  spring  and  the  early  simmier  wore 
away.  I'he  dreaded  month  of  July  came, 
Avith  its  airless  nights,  its  cloudless  mornings, 
and  its  sultry  days. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  the  month  an  event 
happened  which  took  every  one  but  Norah 
by  surprise.  For  the  second  time,  without 
the  sliglitcst  apparent  reason — for  the  second 
time,  witliout  a  word  of  warning  befurehand 
— Frank  suddenly  reappeared  at  his  father's 
cottage ! 

Mr.  Clare's  lips  opened  to  hail  his  son's  re- 
turn, in  the  old  character  of  the  "bad  shil- 
ling;" and  closed  again  without  uttering  a 
word.  Ther(>  was  a  portentous  composure  in 
Frank's  manner  whieli  showed  that  he  had 
other  news  to  connnunicate  than  the  news  of 
his  dismissal.  He  answered  his  father's  sar- 
donic look  of  inquiry  by  at  once  explaining 
that  a  very  important  proposal  for  his  future 
benefit  had  been  madc^  to  him  that  morning  at 
the  ofliee.  His  first  idea  had  been  to  commu- 
nicate the  details  in  writing;  but  the  partners 
had,  on  reflection,  thought  that  the  necessary 
decision  might  be  more  readily  obtained  by  a 
personal  interview  with  his  father  and  his 
friends.  He  had  laid  aside  the  pen  ai'cord- 
ingly,  and  had  resigned  liimself  to  the  railway 
on  the  spot. 

After   this   preliminary   statement,    Fi-ank 

■  proceeded  to  describe  the  proposal  which  his 

employers  had  addressed  to  liim,  with  every 

external  appearance  of  viewing  it  in  the  light 

of  an  intolerable  hardship. 

The  great  firm  in  the  City  had  obviously 
made  a  discovery  in  relation  to  their  clerk, 
exactly  similar  to  the  discovery  which  hacl 
formerly  forced  itself  on  the  engineer  in  rela- 
tion to  his  pupil.  The  young  man,  as  they 
politely  phrased  it,  stood  in  need  of  some 
special  stimulant  to  stir  him  up.  His  employ- 
ers (a<ting  under  a  sense  of  their  obligation 
to  the  gentleman  by  whom  Frank  had  been 
recommended)  '.lad  considered  the  question 
carefully,  and  had  decided  that  the  (uie  prom- 
ising use  to  which  they  could  put  Mr.  Francis 
Clare  was  to  send  him  forthwith  into  another 
quarter  of  the  globe. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  decision,  it  was 
now,  therefore,  proposed  that  he  should  enter 
the  house  of  their  correspondents  in  China; 
that  he  should  remain  there,  familiarizing 
himself  thoroughly  on  the  spot  with  the  tea- 
trade  and  the  silk-trade  for  five  years ;  and 
that  he  should  return,  at  the  expiration  of  this 
period,  to  the  central  establishment  in  Lon- 
don. If  he  made  a  fair  use  of  his  opportuni- 
ties in  China,  he  would  come  back,  while  still 


a  young  man,  fit  for  a  position  of  trust  and 
emolument,  and  justified  in  looking  forward 
at  no  distant  date  to  a  time  when  the  House 
would  assist  him  to  start  in  business  for  him- 
self. Such  were  the  new  prosjjccts  which — to 
adopt  Mr.  Clare's  theory  —  now  forced  them- 
selves on  the  ever-reluctant,  ever-helpless,  and 
ever-ungrateful  Frank.  There  was  no  time 
to  be  lost.  The  final  answer  was  to  be  at  the 
office  on  "Monday,  the  twentictli ;"  the  cor- 
respondents in  Cliina  were  to  be  written  to 
by  the  mail  oti  that  day,  and  Frank  was  to 
follow  the  letter  by  the  next  opportunity,  or 
to  resign  his  chance  in  favor  of  some  moi'C 
enterprising  young  man. 

i\Ir.  Clare's  reception  of  this  extraordinary 
news  was  startling  in  the  extreme.  The  glo- 
rious prospect  of  his  son's  banisluncnt  to  China 
appeared  to  turn  his  brain.  The  firm  pedestal 
of  his  philosophy  sank  urulei'  him  ;  the  ])reju- 
dices  of  society  recovered  their  hold  on  his 
mind.  He  seized  Frank  by  the  arm,  and  act- 
ually accompanied  him  to  Combe-llaven  in 
the  amazing  character  of  a  visitor  to  the 
house  I 

"  Here  I  am  with  my  lout."  said  Mr.  Clare, 
before  a  word  could  be  uttered  by  the  aston- 
ished family.  "  Hear  his  story,  all  of  you. 
It  has  reconciled  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  to  the  anomaly  of  his  existence."  Frank 
ruefully  narrated  the  Chinese  jiroposal  for  the 
second  time,  and  attenq)ted  to  attach  to  it  his 
own  supplementary  statement  of  objections 
and  difficulties.  His  fatluT  stopped  him  at 
the  first  word,  pointed  percmptoi-ily  soiitiieast- 
ward  (from  Somersetshire  to  ('Iiina).  and  said, 
without  an  instant's  hesitation,  "(Jo!"  Mr. 
Vanstone,  basking  in  goicleu  visions  of  his 
young  friend's  future,  echoed  that  monosyllab- 
ic decision  with  all  his  heart.  Mrs.  Vanstone, 
Miss  Garth,  even  Norali  iierself,  spoke  to  the 
same  purpose.  Frank  was  petrified  by  an 
absolute  unanimity  of  o])iiiion  which  he  had 
not  anticipated  ;  and  Magdalen  was  caught, 
for  once  in  her  life,  at  the  end  of  all  her 
resources. 

So  far  as  practical  results  were  concerned, 
the  sitting  of  the  family  council  began  and 
ended  with  the  general  opinion  that  Frank 
must  go.  ^Ir.  Vanstonc's  faculties  were  so 
bewildered  by  the  son's  sudden  arrival,  the 
father's  unexpecte<l  visit,  and  the  ncw.s  they 
both  brought  with  them,  that  he  petitioned  for 
an  adjournment,  before  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments connected  with  his  young  friend's  de- 
parture were  considered  in  detail.  "  Suppose 
we  all  sleep  upon  it  ?"  Ik-  said.  •'  To-morrow 
our  heads  will  feel  a  little  steadier,  and  to- 
morrow will  he  time  enough  to  decide  all 
uncertainties."  This  suggestion  was  readily 
adopted,  and  all  further  proceedings  stood 
adjourned  until  the  next  day. 

That  next  day  was  destined  to  decide  more 
uncertainties  than  Mr.  Vanstone  dreamed  of. 

Early  in  the  morning,  after  making  tea  by 
herself  as  usual,  Miss  Garth  took  her  ]>arasoi, 


32 


NO  NAME. 


and  strolled  into  the  garden.  She  had  slept 
ill ;  and  ten  minutes  in  the  open  air  before 
the  family  assembled  at  breakfast  might  help 
to  compensate  her,  as  she  thought,  for  the  loss 
of  her  night's  rest. 

She  wandered  to  the  outermost  boundary 
of  the  flower-garden,  and  then  returned  by 
another  path,  which  led  back  past  the  side  of 
an  ornamental  summer-house,  commandino'  a 
view  over  the  fields  from  a  corner  of  the  lawn. 
A  slight  noise  —  like,  and  yet  not  like,  the 
chirruping  of  a  bird  —  caught  her  ear  as  she 
approached  the  side  of  the  summer-liouse.  She 
stepped  round  to  the  entrance,  looked  in,  and 
discovered  Magdalen  and  Frank  seated  close 
together.  To  Miss  Garth's  horror,  Magdalen's 
arm  was  unmistakably  round  Frank's  neck ; 
and,  worse  still,  the  position  of  her  face  at  the 
moment  of  discovery  showed  beyond  all  doubt 
that  she  had  just  been  offering  to  the  victim 
of  Chinese  commerce  the  first  and  foremost 
of  all  the  consolations  which  a  woman  can  be- 
stow on  a  man.  In  plainer  words,  she  had 
just  given  Frank  a  kiss. 

In  the  presence  of  such  an  emergen(;y  as 
now  confronted  her  Miss  Garth  felt  instinct- 
ively that  all  ordinary  phrases  of  reproof 
would  be  phrases  thrown  away. 

"  I  presume,"  slie  remarked,  addressing 
Magdalen  with  the  merciless  self-possession  of 
a  middle-aged  lady,  unprovided  for  the  occa- 
sion with  any  kissing  remembrances  of  her 
own  —  "I  presume  (whatever  excuses  j'our 
effrontery  may  suggest)  you  will  not  deny  that 
my  duty  compels  me  to  mention  what  1  have 
just  seen  to  your  father?" 

"  I  will  save  you  the  trouble,"  replied  Mag- 
dalen, composedly.  "  I  will  mention  it  to  him 
myself" 

With  those  v.'ords  she  looked  round  at 
Frank,  standing  trebly  helpless  in  a  corner  of 
the  summer-house.  "  You  shall  hear  what 
happens,"  she  said,  with  her  bright  smile. 
"  And  so  shall  you,"  she  added  for  Miss 
Garth's  especial  benefit,  as  she  sauntered  past 
the  governess  on  her  way  back  to  the  break- 
fast-table. The  eyes  of  Miss  Garth  followed 
her  indignantly ;  and  Frank  slipped  out,  on 
his  side,  at  that  favorable  opportunity. 

Under  these  circumstances,  therci  was  but 
one  course  that  any  respectable  woman  could 
take  —  she  could  only  shudder.  Miss  Garth 
registered  her  protest  in  that  form,  and  then 
returned  to  the  house. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  and  when  Mr. 
Vanstone's  hand  descended  to  his  pocket  in 
.search  of  his  cigar-case,  Magdalen  rose, 
looked  significantly  at  Miss  Garth,  and  fol- 
lowed her  father  into  the  hall. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
this  morning — in  private." 

"  Ay :  ay  !"  returned  Mr.  Vanstone.  "What 
about,  my  dear  ?" 

"  About — "  Magdalen  hesitated,  searched 
for  a  satisfactory  form  oif  expression,  and 
found  it.     *'  About  business,  papa,"  she  said. 


Mr.  Vanstone  took  his  garden  hat  from  the 
hall-table  —  opened  his  eyes  -in  mute  per- 
plexity— attempted  to  associate  in  his  mind 
the  two  extravagantly  dissimilar  ideas  of 
Magdalen  and  "  business  "  —  failed  —  and  led 
the  way  resignedly  into  the  garden. 

His  daughter  took  his  arm,  and  walked  with 
him  to  a  shady  seat  at  a  convenient  distance 
from  the  house.  She  dusted  the  seat  with  her 
smart  silk  apron  before  her  father  occupied 
it.  Mr.  Vanstone  was  not  accustomed  to 
such  an  extraordinary  act  of  attention  as  this. 
He  sat  down,  looking  more  puzzled  than  ever. 
Magdalen  immediately  placed  herself  on  his 
knee  and  rested  her  head  comfortably  en  his 
shoulder. 

"  Am  I  heavy,  papa  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone. 
"  But  not  too  heavy  for  me.  Stop  on  your 
perch,  if  you  like  it.  Well  ?  And  what  may 
this  business  happen  to  be  ?" 

"It  begins  with  a  question." 

"Ah,  indeed?  That  doesn't  surprise  mc. 
Business  with  your  sex,  my  dear,  always  begins 
with  questions.     Go  on." 

"  Papa,  do  you  ever  intend  allowing  me  to 
be  married?" 

Mr.  Vanstone's  eyes  opened  wider  and 
wider.  The  question,  to  use  his  own  phrase, 
completely  staggered  him. 

"  This  is'  busuiess  with  a  vengeance !"  he 
said.  "  Why,  Magdalen  !  Avhat  have  you  got 
in  that  harum-scarum  head  of  yours  now  ?" 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,  papa.  Will  you 
answer  my  question  ?" 

"  I  will  if  I  can,  my  dear;  you  rather  stagger 
me.  Well,  1  don't  know.  Yes ;  I  suppose  I 
must  let  you  be  married  one  of  these  days — if 
we  can  find  a  good  husband  for  you.  How  hot 
your  face  is !  Lift  it  up,  and  let  the  air  blow 
over  it.  You  won't  ?  Well — have  your  own 
way.  If  talking  of  business  means  tickling 
your  cheek  against  my  Avhisker,  I  've  nothing 
to  say  against  it.  Go  on,  my  dear.  What  s 
the  next  question?     Come  to  the  point !" 

She  was  far  too  genuine  a  woman  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  sort.  She  skirted  round  the  point, 
and  calculated  her  distance  to  the  nicety  of  a 
hair's-breadth. 

"  We  were  all  very  much  surprised  yester- 
day— were  we  not,  papa  ?  Frank  is  wonder- 
fully lucky,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  He  's  the  luckiest  dog  I  ever  came  across," 
said  Mr.  Vanstone.  "But  what  has  that  got 
to  do  with  this  business  of  yours  ?  I  dare  say 
you  see  your  way,  Magdalen.  Hang  me  if  I 
can  see  mine!" 

She  skirted  a  little  nearer. 

"I  suppose  he  will  make  his  fortune  in 
China?"  she  said.  "  It 's  a  long  way  off,  isn't 
it  ?  Did  you  observe,  papa,  that  Frank  looked 
sadly  out  of  spirits  yesterday  ?" 

"  I  was  so  surprised  by  the  news,"  said  ]\tr. 
Vanstone,  "and  so  staggered  by  the  sight  of 
old  Clare's  sharp  nose  in  my  house,  that  I 
didn't  much  notice.     Now  you  remind  me  of 


NO  NAME. 


it — yes.  I  don't  think  Frank  took  kindly  to 
his  own  good  luck — not  kindly  at  all."  • 

"  Do  you  wonder  at.  tliat  papa  V" 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  I  do,  rather/' 

"  Don't  you  think  it  's  hard  to  be  sent  away 
for  five  years,  to  make  your  fortune  among 
hateful  savages,  and  lose  sigiit  of  your  friends 
at  home  for  all  tiiat  long  time  ?  Don't  you 
think  Frank  will  miss  w.v  sadly  ?  Don't  you, 
papa  ?  don't  you  ":'" 

"  GtMitly,  Magdalen  !  I  'm  a  little  too  old  for 
those  long  arms  of  yours  to  throttle  me  in  fun. 
You  fe  right,  my  love.  Nothing  in  this  world 
without  a  drawback.  Frank  u^ill  miss  his 
friends  in  P^ngland  ;  tkere  "s  no  denying  that,"' 

"  You  always  liked  Franrk.  And  Frank  al- 
ways liked  you." 

"  Yes,  yes — a  good  fellow ;  a  quiet,  good 
fellow.  Frank  and  I  have  always  got  on 
smoothly  together." 

"  You.-have  got  on  like  father  and  son, 
haven't  you  ?" 

*'  Certainly,  my  dear." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  think  it  harder  on  him 
when  he  has  gone  than  you  think  it  now  ?" 

"  Likely  enough,  Magdalen ;  I  don't  say 
no." 

"Perhaps  you  will  wish  lie  had  stopped  in 
England?  Why  shouldn't  he  stop  in  Eng- 
land, and  do  as. well  as  if  he  went  to  China':'" 

"  My  dear,  he  has  no  prospects  in  England. 
I  wish  he  had,  for  his  own  sake.  I  wisii  the 
lad  well,  with  all  my  heart." 

"  ^lay  I  wish  him  well  too,  papa — with  all 
my  heart  V" 

'•  Certainly,  my  love — your  old  play-fellow — 
why  not  ?  What  's  the  matter  ':*  God  bless 
my  soul,  what  is  the  girl  crying  about '?  One 
would  think  Frank  was  transported  for  life. 
Y'ou  goose !  You  know,  as  well  as  I  do,  he  is 
going  to  China  to  make  his  i'ortune." 

"  lie  doesn  '(  Avant  to  make  his  fortune — he 
might  do  much  better." 

"  The  deuce  he  might !  How,  I  should  like 
to  know ':'" 

"  1  ^  afraid  to  tell  you.  I-'m  afraid  you  '11 
laugh  at  me.  Will  y^u  promise  not  to  laugh 
at  me ':"" 

*•  Anytliing  to  please  you,  my  dear.  Y'es ; 
I  promise.  Now  then,  out  with  it  I  How 
might  Frank  do  better"/" 

"  He  might  marry  Me." 

If  the  sunnner  scene  which  then  spread  be- 
fore Mr.  Vansfone'seyes  had  suddenly  changed 
to  a  dreary  winter  view — if  the  trees  had  lost 
all  their  leave?,  and  the  green  fields  had  turned 
white  with  snow  in  an  instant,  his  face  could 
hardly  have  expressed  gn  ater  amazement  than 
it  dis])layed  when  his  daughter's  faltering  voic« 
spoke  those  four  last  words.  He  tried  to  look 
at  lier,  but  she  .steadily  refu.'sed  him  the  oppor- 
tunity :  she  kept  her  face  hidden  over  his 
shoulder.  Was  she  in  earnest  'i  His  cheek, 
still  wet  with  her  tears,  answered  for  her. 
There  was  a  long  pause  of^ilence ;  she  waited — 
with   unaccustomed   patience,  she   waited   for 


liim  to  speak.  He  routed  himself,  and  spoke 
these  words  only :  "  "You  surprise  me,  Mag- 
dalen ;  you  surprise  me  more  tlian  I  can  say." 

At  the  altered  tone  of  iiis  voice — altei'ed  to 
a  quiet,  fatherly  seriousness — Magdalen's  arras 
clung  round  him  closer  than  before. 

•  "  Have  I  disappointed  you,  papa  ?"  slip 
asked,  faintly.  "  Don't  say  I  have  disappoint- 
ed you  !  Who  am  I  to  tell  my  secret  to,  if  not 
to  you?  Don't  let  him  go  —  don't!  don't! 
You  will  break  his  heart.  Ho  is  afraid  to  tell 
his  father;  he  is  even  afraid  ifou  might  be  an^jry 
with  him.  There  is  nobody  to  speak  for  us, 
except  —  except  me.  Oh,  don't  let  him  go  I 
Don't  for  his  sake  — "  she  whispered  the  next 
words  in  a  kiss — "  don't  for  Mine  !" 

Her  father's  kind  face  saddened  ;  he  sighed, 
and  patted  her  fair  head  tenderly.  "  Hush, 
my  love,"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper ;  "  hush  !" 
She  little  knew  what  a  revelation  every  word, 
every  action  that  escaped  her,  now  opened  be- 
fore him.  She  had  m,\de  him  her  grown-up 
play-fellow  fi-ora  her  childhood  to  that  day. 
Slie  had  romped  with  him  in  her  frocks,  she 
had  gone  on  romping  witii  hiui  in  her  gowns. 
He  had  never  been  long  enough  separated 
from  her  to  have  the  external  changes  in  his 
daughter  Ibrced  on  his  attention.  His  artless, 
fatherly  experience  of  her  had  taught  him  that 
she  was  a  taller  child  in  later  years,  and  had 
taught  him  little  more.  And  now,  in  one 
breathless  instant,  the  conviction  that  she  was 
a  woman  rushed  over  his  mind.  He  felt  it  in 
the  trouble  of  her  bosom  ])resscd  against  his ; 
in  the  nervous  thrill  of  her  arms  i-lasped  round 
his  neck.  The  Magdalen  of  his  innocent  ex- 
piM'ience,  a  woman — with  the  master-passion 
of  her  sex  in  possession  of  her  heart  already ! 

"  Have  you  thought  long  of  tliis,  my  dear?" 
he  asked,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak  composedly-. 
"  Are  you  sure — ?" 

She  answered  the  question  before  he  could 
finish  it. 

"  Sure  I  love  him  V"  she  said.  "  Oh,  what 
words  can  say  Yes  for  me  as  I  want  to  say  it ! 
I  love  him — !"  Her  voice  faltered  softly,  and 
her  aAswer  ended  in  a  sigli. 

"  You  are  very  your^.  You  and  Frank,  my 
love,  are  both  very  young."  • 

She  raised  lier  head  from  his  shouWer  for 
the  first  time.  The  thought  and  its  expression 
flashed  from  her  at  the  same  moment. 

"  Are  we  much  younger  than  you  and 
mamma  were  ^"  she  asked,  smiling  through  her 
tears.  , 

She  tried  to  lay  her  head  back  in  its  old  po- 
sition, iiut  as  sill!  spoke  those  words  her  lather 
caught  her  round  the  waist^ — forced  her,  betbre 
she  was  aware  of  it,  to  look  hira  in  the  face — 
and  kissed  her,  with  a  sudden  outburst  of  ten- 
derness wliich  brought  the  tears  thronging 
back  thickly  into  her  eyes.  "  Not  much 
vounger.  my  etiild,"  he  ^aid,  in  low,  broken 
tones — "  not  mufh  younger  than  your  mother 
and  I  were."  He  put  her  away  from  him,  and 
rose  from  the  scat,  and  turned  his  head  aside 


34 


NO  NMIE. 


quickly.  "  Wait  here,  and  compose  yourself; 
I  Avill  go  indoors  and  ?peak  to  your  mother." 
His  voice  trembled  over  those  parting  words, 
and  he  left  her  without  once  looking  round 
again. 

She  waited  —  waited  a  weary  time;  and  he 
never  came  back.  At  last  her  growing  anxiety 
urged  her  to  follow  him  into  the  house.  A  new 
timidity  throbbed  in  her  heart  as  she  doubt- 
ingly  approached  the  door.  Never  had  she 
seen  the  depths  of  her  father's  sini])]e  nature 
ftiiTcd  as  they  had  been  stii-red  by  her  con- 
fession. She  almost  dreaded  lier  next  meeting 
with  him.  She  wandered  softly  to  and  fro  in 
the  hall,  with  a  shyness  unaccountable  to  her- 
ticlf —  with  a  terror  of  being  discovered  and 
spoken  to  by  her  sister  or  Miss  Garth,  which 
made  her  nervously  susceptible  to  the  slightest 
noises  in  the  house.  The  door  of  the  morning- 
room  opened  while  her  back  was  turned  toward 
it.  She  started  violently  as  she  looked  round 
and  saw  her  father  in  the  hall ;  her  heart  beat 
faster  and  faster,  and  she  felt  herself  turning 
pale.  A  second  look  at  him,  as  he  came  nearer, 
reassured  her.  He  was  com])osed  again,  thougli 
not  so  cheerful  as  usual.  She  noticed  that  lie 
advanced  and  si)oke  to  her  with  a  forbearing 
gentleness,  which  was  more  like  his  manner  to 
her  mother  than  his  ordinary  manner  to  her- 
self. 

"  Go  in,  my  love,"  he  said,  opening  the  door 
for  her  which  he  had  just  closed.  "  Tell  your 
mother  all  you  have  told  me — and  more,  if  you 
have  more  to  say.  She  is  better  piepared  for 
you  than  I  was.  We  will  take  to-day  to  think 
of  it,  Magdalen ;  and  to-morrow  }'ou  shall 
know,  and  Frank  shall  know,  Avhat  we  decide." 

Her  eyes  brightened  as  they  looked  into  his 
face  and  saw  the  decision  there  ali'cady,  with 
the  double  penetration  of  her  womanhood  and 
her  love.  Happy,  and  beautiful  in  her  happi- 
ness, she  put  his  hand  to  her  lips,  and  went 
without  hesitation  into  the  morning-room. 
There  her  father's  words  had  smoothed  th<> 
way  for  her:  there  the  first  shock  of  the  sur- 
])rise  was  past  and  over,  and  only  the  pleasure 
of  it  remained.  Her  mother  had  been  her  age 
once  ;  her  mother  would  know  how  fond  she 
was  of  Frank.  So  the  coming  interview  was 
anticipated  in  her  thoughts;  and — except  that 
there  was  an  unaccountable  appearance  of  re- 
straint in  Mrs.  Vanstone's  first  reception  of 
her  —  Avas  anticipated  aright.  After  a  little 
the  mother's  questions  came  more  and  more 
luireservediy  from  the  sweet,  unibrgotten  ex- 
]>erience  of  the  mother's  heart:  she  lived  acain 
throu,gh  her  own  young  days  of  hope  and  love 
in  Magdalen's  replies. 

The  next  morning  the  all-important  decision 
v/as  announced  in  words.  Mr.  Vanstone  took 
his  daughter  up  stairs  into  her  mother's  room, 
and  there  placed  before  her  the  result  of  the 
yesterday's  consultation,  and  of  the  night's  re- 
flection which  had  followed  it.  He  spoke  with 
perfect  kindness  apd  self-possession  of  manner, 
but   in  fewer  and  more  serious  words  than 


usual ;  and  he  held  his  wife's  hand  tenderly  in 
his  own  all  through  the  interview. 

He  infoimed  ]\lagdalen  that  neither  he  nor 
her  mother  felt  themselves  justified  in  blaming 
her  attachment  to  Frank.  It  had  been,  in 
part  perhaps,  the  natural  consequence  of  her 
childish  familiarity  Avith  him;  in  part,  also,  the 
I  result  of  the  closer  intimacy  between  them 
i  wjiich  the  theatrical  entertainment  had  neces- 
j  saril}-  produced.  At  the  same  time,  it  was  now 
the  dutj-  of  her  parents  to  put  that  attachment, 
I  on  both  sides,  to  a  proper  test  —  fqr  her  sake, 
because  her  happy  future  was  their  dearegj. , 
care;  for  Frank's  sake,  because  they  "vvefA- 
bound  to  give  him  the  opportunity  of  showing 
himself  worthy  of  the  trust  confided  in  him. 
They  were  both  conscious  of  being  strongly 
prejudiced  in  Frank's  favor.  His  father's  ec- 
centric conduct  had  made  the  lad  the  object 
of  their  compassion  and  their  care  from  his 
earliest  years :  he  (and  his  younger  brothers) 
had  almost  filled  the  places  to  them  of  those 
other  children  of  their  own  whom  they  had 
lost.  Although  they  firmly  believed  their  good 
opinion  of  Frank  to  be  well  founded — still,  in 
the  interest  of  their  daughter's  happiness,  it 
was  necessary  to  put  that  opinion  firmly  to  the 
proof,  by  fixing  certain  coTiditions,  and  by 
interposing  a  year  of  delay  between  the  con- 
templated marriage  and  the  jiresent  time. 

During  that  year  Frank  was  to  remain  at 
the  office  in  Lor.don ;  his  employers  being  in- 
formed beforehand  that  family  circumstances 
prevented  his  accepting  their  offer  of  employ- 
1  ment  in  China.  He  was  to  consider  this  con- 
cession as  a  recognition  of  the  attachment 
between  Magdalen  and  himself,  on  certain 
terms  only.  Jf  during  the  yea.r  of  pi'obation 
he  failed  to  justify  the  confidence  placed  in 
him  —  a  confidence  which  had  led  Mr.  Van- 
stone  to  take  unresei'vedly  upon  himself  the 
whole  responsibility  of  Frank's  future  pros- 
pects—  the  marriage  scheme  was  to  be  con- 
sidered from  that  moment  as  at  an  end.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  result  to  which  Mr.  Van- 
stone  confidently  looked  forward  really  oc- 
curred—  if  Frank's  probationary  year  proved 
his  claim  to  the  most  precious  trust  that  could 
be  placed  in  his  hands  —  then  Magdalen  her- 
self should  reward  him  with  all  that  a  woman 
can  bestow  ;  and  the  future  which  his  present 
employers  had  placed  before  him  as  the  result 
of  a  five  years  residence  in  China  should  be 
realized  in  one  year's  time  by  the  dowry  of 
his  young  wife. 

As  her  father  drew  that  picture  of  the  future 
the  outburst  of  Magdalen's  gratitude  could  no 
longer  be  restrained.  She  was  deeply  touched 
— she  spoke  from  her  inmost  heart.  Mr.  Van- 
stone  waited  until  his  daughter  and  his  wife 
were  composed  again,  and  then  added  the  last 
words  of  explanation  which  were  now  left  for 
him  to  speak. 

"  You  understand,  my  love,"  he  said,  "  that 
I  am  not  anticipating  Frank's  living  in  idle- 
ness on  his  wife's  means  ?    My  plan  for  him  is 


NO  NAME. 


Si) 


'that  he  should  still  profit  bythe  interest  -which  [ 
his   present   employers  take  in   him.      Their 
knowledge  of  aiFairs  in  the  City  will  soon  place 
a  sjood  partnership  at  his  disposal  —  and  you 
will  give  him  the  money  to  buy  it  out  of  hand. 
I  shall  limit  the  sum<  my  dear,  to  half  your  ! 
fortune;  and  the  other  half!  shall  have  settled 
upon    vourself.      We   sliall   all   be   alive  and  i 
hearty,  I   hope" — he   looked  tenderly  at  his 
wife  as  he  said  those  words — "  all  alive  and 
hearty  at  the  year's  end.     But  if  I  am  gone, 
Magdalen,   it  will   make  no  dilference.     My 
will  —  made   long   before   I  ever   thought   of 
having  a  son-in-law  —  divides  my  fortune  into 
two   equal   parts.       One   part,  goes   to   your  i 
mother,  and  the  other  part  is  fairly  divided  ; 
lietween   my  children.     You  will  have   your 
share  on  your  wedding-day  (and  Norali  will 
have  hers  when   she  marries)  Irom  my  own 
hand,  if  I  live;   and  under  my  will,  if  I  die. 
There  !  tliere  !  no  gloomy  laces,"  he  said,  with 
a   momentary   return    of  his   everyday   good 
spirits.    '•  Your  mother  and  I  mean  to  live  and 
see  Frank   a  great  merchant.     I  siiall  leave  , 
you,  my  dear,  to  enlighten  the  son  on  our  new 
projects,  while  I  walk  over  to  tlie  cottage — " 

He  stopped ;  his  eyebrows  contracted  a  lit- 
tle ;  and  he  looked  aside  hesitatingly  at  Mrs. 
Vanstone. 

"  What  must  you  do  at  the  cottage,  papaV" 
asked  ^lagdalen,  after  having  vainly  waited  lor 
him  to  tinish  the  sentence  of  his  own  accord. 

"  I  must  consult  Frank's  father,"  he  replied. 
"  W©  must  not  forget  that  Mr.  Clare's  consent 
is  still  wanting  to  settle  this  mattci-.  And  as 
time  presses,  and  we  don't  know  wlial  ditlicul- 
ties  he  may  not  raise,  the  sooner  I  see  him  the 
better." 

He  gave  that  answer  in  low,  altered  tones ; 
and  ro;<c  from  his  chair  in  a  half  reluctant,  half 
resigned  manner,  which  Magdalen  observed 
with  S'Ccret  alarm. 

She  glanced  inquiringly  at  her  mother.  To 
all  appearance  Mrs.  Vanstone  had  been  alarm- 
ed by  the  change  in  him  also.  She  looked 
anxious  and  uneasy;  she  turned  her  face  away 
on  the  sofa  pillow  —  turned  it  suddenly,  as  if. 
she  was  in  pain. 

"  Are  you  not  well,  mamma  ?"  asked  Mag- 
dalen. 

"  Quite  well,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Van.stone, 
shortly  and  sharply,  without  turning  round. 
"  Leave  me  a  little — I  only  want  rest." 

Magdalen  went  out  with  her  father. 

"  Papa  I"  she  whi.spcred,  an.xiously,  as  they 
descended  the  stairs.  "  You  don't  think  Mr. 
Clare  will  say  No?"  ' 

*'  I  can't  tell  beforehand,"  answered  Mr. 
Vanstone.     "  I  hope  he  will  say  Yes." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  he  should  say  any- 
thing else — is  there  ?" 

she  jnit  the  question  faintly  while  he  was 
getting  his  hat  and  stick,  and  lie  did  not  appear 
to  hear  her.  Doubting  whether  she  should 
repeat  it  or  not,  she  accompanie<l  him  as  far  as 
the  garden,  on  his  way  to  Mr.  Clare's  cottage. 


He  stopped  her  on  the  lawn,  and  sent  her  back  ' 
to  the  house. 

'•  Y'^ou  have  nothing  on  your  head,  my  dear," 
he  said.  "  If  yon  want  to  be  in  the  garden, 
don't  forget  how  hot  the  sun  is  —  don't  come 
out  without  your  hat." 

He  walked  on  toward  the  cottage. 

She  waited  a  moment,  and  looked  after  him. 
She  missed  the  customary  flourish  of  his  stick ; 
she  saw  his  little  Scotch  terrier,  who  had  run 
out  at  his  heels,  barking  and  capering  about 
him  unnoticed.  He  was  out  of  spirits;  he  was 
str.angely  out  of  spirits.     AVhat  did  it  mean  ? 


CHAPTER  X. 

On  returning  to  the  house  Magdalen  felt  her 
shoulder  suddenly  touched  from  behind  as  she 
crossed  the  hall.  She  turned  and  confronted 
her  sister.  Before  she  could  ask  any  questions 
Norah  confusedly  addressed  her  in  these  words: 
"I  beg  your  pardon;  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me." 

Magdalen  looketl  at  her  sister  in  astonish- 
ment. All  memory,  on  her  side,  of  the  sharp 
words  which  had  passed  between  them  in  the 
shrubbery,  was  lost  in  the  new  interests  that 
now  absorbed  her — lost  as  completely  as  if  the 
angry  interview  had  never  taken  place.  "  For- 
give you !"  she  repeated,  amazedly,  "  What 
for?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  your  new  prospects,"  pur- 
sui>d  Norah,  speaking  with  a  mechanical  sub- 
missiveness  of  manner  which  seemed  almost 
ungracious;  I  wished  to  set  things  right  be- 
tween us ;  I  wished 'to  say  I  was  sorry  for  wiiat 
happened.  \V'ill  you  Ibrget  if  ?  Will  you 
forget  and  forgive  what  happened  in  the 
shrubber)'  ?"  She  tried  to  proceed  ;  but  her 
inveterate  reserve  —  or  perhaps  her  obstinate 
reliance  on  her  own  opinions — silenced  her  at 
those  last  words.  Her  face  clouded  over  on  a 
sudden.  Before  her  sister  could  answer  her 
she  turned  away  abruptly  and  ran  up  stairs. 

The  door  of  the  library  opened  before  Mag- 
dalen could  follow  her,  and  Miss  Garth  ad- 
vanced to  express  the  sentiments  proper  to  the 
occasion. 

They  were  not  the  mcchanically-submissivo 
sentiments  which  Magdalen  had  ju.st  heard. 
Norah  had  struggled  against  her  rooted  dis- 
trust of  Frank,  in  deference  to  the  unanswer- 
able decision  of  both  her  parents  in  his  favor; 
and  had  suppressed  the  open  expression  of  her 
antipathy,  though  the  feeling  itself  remained 
unconquercd.  Miss  Garth  had  made  no  such 
concession  to  the  master  and  mistress  of  the 
house.  She  had  hitherto  held  the  position  of 
a  hi<'h  authority  on  all  rlomestic  questions ;  and 
she  flatly  <leclined  to  get  off  her  pedestal  in 
deference  to  any  change  in  the  family  circum- 
stances, no  matter  how  amazing  or  how  un- 
expected that  change  might  be. 

••  Pray  accept  my  congratulations,"  said 
Miss  Garth,  bristling  all  over  with  implied 
objections   to    Frank  —  "  my   congratulation^. 


S6 


NO  NAME. 


and  my  apolopfies.  When  I  caught  you  kissing 
Mr.  Francis  Clare  in  the  summer-house  I  had 
no  idea  you  were  engaged  in  carrying  out  tlie 
intentions  of  your  parents.  I  oifer  no  opinion 
on  the  subject.  I  merely  regret  my  own  acci- 
dental appearance  in  the  character  of  an 
Obstacle  to  the  course  of  true  Ioa'c  —  whi(^h 
appears  to  run  smooth  in  summer-houses,  what- 
ever Shakspeare  may  say  to  the  contrary. 
Consider  me  for  the  future,  if  you  ])leasc,  as 
an  obstacle  removed.  May  you  be  happy  !" 
Miss  Garth's  lips  closed  on  that  last  sentence 
like  a  trap  ;  and  Miss  Garth's  eyes  looked  omi- 
nously prophetic  into  the  mati-imonial  i'uture. 

If  Magdalen's  anxieties  had  not  been  i'ar  too 
serious  to  allow  her  the  customary  fro«  use  of 
her  tongue,  she  would  have  been  ready,  on  the 
instant,  with  an  appropriately  satirical  answer. 
As  it  was,  Miss  Gartii  simply  irritated  her. 
"  Pooh  !"  she  said,  and  ran  up  stairs  to  her  sis- 
ter's room. 

She  knocked  at  the  door,  and  there  was  no 
answer.  She  tried  the  door,  and  it  resisted 
her  from  the  inside.  The  sullen,  unmanageable 
Norah  was  locked  in. 

Under  other  circumstances  ]\Iagdalen  would 
not  have  been  satisfied  with  knocking — she 
would  have  called  through  the  door  loudly 
and  more  loudly  till  the  house  was  disturbed, 
and  she  had  carried  lier  point.  But  the 
doubts  and  fears  of  the  morning  had  unnerved 
her  already.  She  went  down  stairs  again 
softly,  and  took  her  hat  from  the  stand  in  the 
hall.  "  He  told  me  to  put  my  hat  on,"  she 
said  to  herselti  with  a  meek,  filial  docility 
which  was  totally  out  of  her  character. 

She  went  into  the  garden,  on  the  shrubberj' 
side,  and  waited  there  to  catch  the  first  sight 
of  her  father  on  his  return.  Half  an  hour 
passed — Ibrty  minutes  passed — and  then  his 
voice  reached  her  from  among  tlie  distant 
trees.  "  Come  in  to  heel !"  she  heard  him 
call  out  loudly  to  the  dog.  Her  face  turned 
pale.  "  He  's  angry  with  Snap  !"  she  ex- 
claimed to  herself,  in  a  whisper.  The  next 
minute  he  appeared  in  view,  walking  rapidly, 
with  his  head  down,  and  Snap  at  his  heels  in 
disgrace.  The  sudden  excess  of  her  alarm  as 
she  observed  those  ominous  signs  of  something 
wrong  rallied  her  natural  energy,  and  de- 
termined her  desperately  on  knowing  the 
worst. 

She  walked  straight  forward  to  meet  her 
father. 

"  Your  face  tells  3-our  news,"  she  said,  faintly,  j 
"  Mr.  Clare  has  been  as  heartless  as  usual — 
Mr.  Clare  has  said  No  ?" 

Her  father  turned  on  her  with  a  sudden 
severity  so  entirely  unparalleled  in  her  expe- 
rience of  him  that  she  started  back  in  down- 
right terror. 

"  Magdalen !"  he  said,  "  whenever  you  speak 
of  my  old  friend  and  neighbor  again,  bear  this 
in  mind.  Mr.  Clare  has  just  laid  me  under  an 
obligation  which  I  shall  remember  gratefully 
to  the  end  of  my  life." 


He  stopped  suddenly  after  saying  those  re- 
markable words.  Seeing  that  he  had  startled 
her,  his  natui-al  kindness  prompted  him  in- 
stantly to  sottcn  the  reproof,  and  to  end  the, 
suspense  from  which  she  was  plainly  sutfering. 
"  Give  me  a  kiss,  my  love,"  he  resumed,  and 
1  '11  tell  you  in  return  that  Mr.  Clare  has  said 
—Yes." 

She  attempted  to  thank  him,  but  the  sud- 
den luxury  of  relief  was  too  much  for  her. 
She  could  only  cling  round  his  neck  in  silence. 
He  felt  her  trembling  irom  head  to  foot,  and 
said  a  few  words  to  calm  her.  At  the  altered 
tones  of  his  master's  voice  Snap's  meek  tail 
reappeared  fiercely  from  between  his  legs,  and 
Snap's  lungs  modestlj'  tested  his  position  with 
a  brief  experimental  bark.  The  dog's  quaint- 
ly appropriate  assertion  of  himself  on  his  old 
looting  was  the  interru^stion  of  all  others 
which  was  best  fitted  to  restore  Magdalen  to 
herself.  She  caught  the  shaggy  little  terrier 
up  in  her  arms  and  kissed  liivi  next.  "  You 
darling,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  're  almost  as 
glad  as  I  am !"  She  turned  again  to  her  father 
with  a  look  of  tender  reproach.  "You  fright- 
ened me,  papa,"  she  said.  "  You  were  so 
unlike  yourself." 

"  I  shall  be  right  again  to-morrow,  my  deai;. 
I  am  a  little  upset  to-day." 

"  Not  by  me  '?" 

"  No,  no." 

"  Bv  something  vou  have  heard  at  Mr. 
Clare's  ?" 

"  Yes  —  nothing  you  need  alarm  yourself 
about ;  nothing  that  won't  wear  off  by  to-mor- 
row. Let  me  go  now,  my  dear,  I  have  a  letter 
to  write ;  and  I  want  to  speak  to  your  mother." 

He  left  her  and  went  on  to  the  house. 
Magdalen  lingered  a  little  on  the  lawn  to  feel 
all  the  happiness  of  her  new  sensations,  then 
turned  away  toward  the  shrubbery  to  enjoy 
the  higher  luxury  of  communicating  them. 
The  dog  followed  her.  She  whistled  and 
clajjped  her  hands.  "  Find  him  !"  she  said, 
with  beaming  eyes.  "  Find  Frank  !"  Snap 
scampered  into  the  shrubbery,  with  a  blood- 
thirsty snarl  at  starting.  Perhaps  he  had 
mistaken  his  young  mistress,  and  considered 
himself  her  emissary  in  search  of  a  rat  ? 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Vanstone  entered  the  house. 
He  met  his  wife  slowly  descending  the  stairs, 
and  advanced  to  give  her  his  arm.  "  How 
has  it  ended  ?"  she  asked  anxiously,  as  he  led 
her  to  the  sofa. 

"  Happily — as  we  hoped  it  would,"  answered 
her  husband.  "  My  old  friend  has  justified  my 
opinion  of  him." 

"  Thank  God !"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  fer- 
vently. "  Did  you  feel  it,  love  ?"  she  asked, 
as  her  husband  arranged  the  sofa  pillows — 
"  did  you  feel  it  as  painfully  as  I  feared  you 
would':'" 

"I  had  a  duty  to  do,  my  dear,  and  I  did  it." 

Alter  replying  in  those  terms,  he  hesitated. 
Apparently  he  had  something  more  to  say — 
something,  perhaps,  on   the  subject  of  that 


NO  NAME. 


passing  uneasiness  of  mind  which  had  been 
produced  by  his  interview  with  Mr.  Clare,  and 
which  Magdalen's  questions  had  obliged  him 
to  acknowledge.  A  look  at  his  wife  decided 
his  doubts  in  the  negative.  He  only  asked  if 
she  felt  comfortable,  and  then  turned  away  to 
leave  the  room. 

"  Must  you  go  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  liave  a  letter  to  write,  my  dear." 

"  Anything  about  Frank  ?" 

"  No :  to-morrow  will  do  for  that.  A  let- 
ter to  Mr.  Pendril  ;  I  want  him  here  imme- 
diately." 

"  Business,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  —  business." 

He  went  out  and  shut  himself  into  the  little 
front  room,  close  to  the  hall  door,  which  was 
called  his  study.  By  nature  and  habit  the 
most  procrastinating  of  letter-writers,  he  now 
inconsistently  opened  his  desk  and  took  u])  the 
pen  without  a  moment's  delay.  His  letter  was 
long  enough  to  occupy  three  pages  of  note- 
paper;  it  Avas  written  with  a  readiness  of  ex- 
pression and  a  rapidity  of  hand  which  seldom 
characterized  bis  proceedings  when  engaged 
over  his  ordinary  correspondence.  He  wrote 
the  address  as  follows:  "Immediate  —  Wil- 
liam Pendril,  Esq.,  Searle  Street,  Lincoln's 
Inn,  London"'  —  then  pushed  the  letter  away 
from  him,  and  sat  at  the  table,  drawing  lines 
on  the  blotting-paper  with  his  pen,  lost  in 
thought.  "  No,'  he  said  to  himself;  "  I  can 
do  nothing  more  till  Pemh-il  comes."  He 
rose  ;  his  face  brightened  as  he  put  the  stamp 
on  the  envelope.  The  writing  of  the  letter 
had  sensibly  relieved  him,  and  his  whole  bear- 
ing showt'd  it  as  he  left  the  room. 

On  the  door-step  he  found  Norah  and  Miss 
Garth  setting  forth  together  for  a  walk. 

"Which  way  arc  you  going  V"  he  asked. 
"  Anywhere  near  the  })Ost-o(Rce  ?  I  wish  you 
would  post  this  letter  tor  me,  Norah.  It  is 
very  important  —  so  important,  that  I  hardly 
like  to  trust  it  to  Thomas  as  usual.'" 

Norah  at  once  took  charge  of  the  letter. 

"If  you  look,  my  dear,"  continued  her 
father,  "you  will  see  that  1  am  writing  to  Mr. 
Pendril.  I  expect  him  here  to-morrow  after- 
noon. Will  you  give  the  necessary  directions. 
:Miss  Garth  ?  Mr.  Pendril  will  sleep  here  to- 
morrow night,  and  stay  over  Stniday.  Wait  a 
minute  I  To-day  is  Friday,  purely  I  had  an 
engagement  for  Saturday  afternoon '/"  He 
consulted  his  pocket-book,  and  read  over  one 
of  tlie  entries  with  a  look  of  annoyance. 
"  Grail.sea  Mill,  three  o'clock,  Saturdav.*  Just 
the  time  when  Pendril  will  be  here ;  and  I 
must  be  at  home  to  see  him.  'How  can  I 
manajje  it?  Monday  will  be  too  late  for  my 
business  at  Grail.<ea.  I  'II  go  to-<lay  instead, 
and  take  ray  chance  of  catching  the  miller  at 
hi.-*  dinner-time."  He  looked  at  his  watch. 
"  Xo  time  for  driving ;  I  must  do  it  by  rail- 
way. If  I  go  at  once  I  shall  catch  the  down- 
train  at  our  station,  and  get  on  to  (Jrailsea. 
Take  care  of  the  letter,  Norah.     1  won't  ke»]) 


dinner  waiting;  if  the  return  train  doesn't 
suit,  I  '11  borroAv  a  gig  and  set  back  in  that 
way." 

As  he  took  up  his  hat  Magdalen  appeared 
at  the  door,  returning  from  her  interview  with 
Frank.  The  hurry  of  her  father's  movements 
attracted  her  attention,  and  she  asked  him 
where  he  was  going. 

"  To  Grailsea,"  replied  Mr.  Yanstone. 
"Your  business,  Miss  Magdalen,  has  got  in 
the  way  of  mine,  and  mine  must  give  way  to 
it." 

He  sjwke  those  parting  words  in  his  old 
hearty  manner,  and  left  them,  with  the  old 
characteristic  flourish  of  his  trusty  stick. 

"  My  business  !"  said  ]\Iagdalen.'  "  I  thought 
my  business  was  done." 

Miss  Garth  pointed  significantly  to  the  let- 
ter in  Norah's  hand.  "Your  business,  bevond 
all  doubt,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Pendril  is  coming 
to-morrow ;  and  Mr.  Vanstonc  seems  remark- 
ably anxious  about  it.  Law  and  its  attendant 
troubles  already!  Governesses  who  look  in 
at  summer-house  doors  are  not  the  only  ob- 
stacles to  the  course  of  true  love.  Parchment 
is  sometimes  an  obstacle.  I  hope  you  mav 
find  Parchment  tvs  ])liable  as  I  am  —  I  wish 
you  well  through  it.     Now,  Norah  !" 

.]\Iiss  Garth"s  second  shaft  struck  as  harmless 
as  the  first.  Magdalen  had  returned  to  the 
house  a  little  vexed ;  her  interview  with 
Frank  having  been  interrupted  by  a  messen- 
ger from  Mr.  Clare,  sent  to  summon  the  son 
into  the  father"s  presence.  Although  it  had 
been  agreed,  at  the  private  interview  between 
Ml-.  "\^anstone  and  I\Ir.  Clare,  that  the  questions 
discussed  tliat  morning  should  not  he  commu- 
nicated to  the  children  until  the  year  of  pro- 
bation was  at  an  end  —  and  although,  under 
these  circumstances,  ^Ir.  Clare  had  nothing  to 
tell  Frank  which  Magdalen  could  not  commu- 
nicate to  him  much  more  agreeably  —  the 
philosopher  was  not  the  less  resolved  on  per- 
sonally informing  his  son  of  the  parental  con- 
ce.''sion  which  rescued  him  from  Chinese  exile. 
The  result  was  a  sudden  sununons  to  the  cot- 
tage which  startled  IMagdah-n.  but  which  did 
not  appear  to  take  Frank  by  sin-prise.  His 
filial  experience  penetrated  the  mystery  of 
Mr.  Clare's  motiv(!S  easily  enough.  "  When 
my  father  's  in  spirits."  he  said,  sulkily,  "  he 
likes  to  bully  me  about  my  good  luck.  This 
message  means  that  he  's  going  to  bully  me 
now." 

"  Don't  go."  suggested  Magdalen. 
"  I  must,"  replied  Frank.  "I  shall  never 
hear  the  last  of  it  if  I  don't.  He  *s  primed 
and  loaded,  and  he  means  to  go  ofT.  He  went 
off  once,  when  the  enfrineer  took  me;  he  went 
oflT twice,  when  the  ofHee  in  the  City  took  me; 
and  he  's  going  oflT  thrice,  now  you  'vf  taken 
me.  If  it  wasn't  for  you  I  should  wish  I  had 
never  been  born.  Yvk,  your  father  's  been 
kind  to  me,  I  know  —  and  I  should  have  gone 
to  China  if  it  hadn't  bi-en  for  him.  I  'm  ."-ure 
I  "m  very  much  obliged.     Of  eourie  we  have 


S8 


NO  NAME. 


no  right  to  expect  anything  else  —  still  it  's 
discouraging  to  keep  us  waiting  a  year,  isn't 
it  ?" 

Magdalen  stopped  his  mouth  by  a  summary 
process  to  which  even  Frank  submitted  grate- 
fully. At  the  same  time  she  did  not  forget  to 
set  down  his  discontent  to  the  right  side. 
"  How  fond  he  is  of  me  !"  she  thouijht.  "  A 
year's  waiting  is  quite  a  hardship  to  him." 
She  returned  to  the  house,  secretly  regretting 
that  she  had  not  heard  more  of  Frank's  com- 
plimentary complaints.  Miss  Garth's  elaborate 
satire,  addressed  to  her  while  she  was  in  this 
frame  of  mind,  was  a  purely  gratuitous  waste 
of  Miss  Garth's  breath.  What  did  Magdalen 
care  for  satire  ?  What  do  Youth  and  Love 
ever  care  for  except  themselves  ?  She  never 
even  said  as  much  as  "  Pooh !"  this  time.  She 
laid  aside  her  hat  in  serene  silence,  and  saun- 
tered languidly  into  the  morning-room  to  keep 
her  mother  company.  She  lunched  on  dire 
forebodings  of  a  quarrel  between  Frank  and 
his  father,  with  accidental  interruptions  in  the 
shape  of  cold  chicken  and  cheese-cakes.  She 
trifled  away  half  an  hour  at  the  piano ;  and 
played,  in  that  time,  selections  from  the  Songs 
of  Mendelssohn,  the  Mazurkas  of  Chopin,  tlie 
Operas  of  Verdi,  and  the  Sonatas  of  Mozart 
— all  of  whom  had  combined  together  on  this 
occasion,  and  produced  one  immortal  work, 
entitled  "Frank."  She  closed  the  piano  and 
went  up  to  her  room  to  dream  away  the  houi-s 
luxuriously  in  visions  of  her  married  future. 
The  green  shutters  were  closed,  the  easy  cliair 
was  pushed  in  front  of  the  glass,  the  maid  was 
summoned  as  usual,  and  the  comb  assisted  the 
mistress's  reflections,  through  the  medium  of 
the  mistress's  hair,  till  heat  and  idleness  as- 
serted their  narcotic  influences  together,  and 
Magdalen  fell  asleep. 

It  was  past  three  o'clock  when  she  awoke. 
On  going  down  stairs  again  she  found  her 
mother,  Norah,  and  Miss  Garth  all  sitting 
together  enjoying  the  shade  and  the  coolness 
under  the  open  portico  in  front  of  the  house. 

Norah  had  the  railway  time-table  in  her 
hand.  Tliey  had  been  discussing  the  chances 
of  Mr.  Vanstone's  catching  the  return  train, 
and  getting  back  in  good  time.  That  topic 
had  led  them,  next,  to  his  business  errand  at 
Grailsea  —  an  errand  of  kindness,  as  usual  — 
undertaken  for  the  benefit  of  the  miller,  who 
had  been  his  old  farm-servant,  and  who  was 
now  hard  pressed  by  serious  pecuniary  difli- 
eulties.  From  this  they  had  glided  insensibly 
into  a  subject  often  repeated  among  them, 
s^nd  never  exhausted  by  repetition — the  praise 
of  Mr.  Vanstone  himself  Each  one  of  the 
three  had  some  exjjerience  of  her  own  to 
relate  of  his  simple,  generous  nature.  The 
conversation  seemed  to  be  almost  painfully 
interesting  to  his  wife.  She  was  too  near  the 
time  of  her  trial  now  not  to  feel  nervously 
sensitive  to  the  one  subject  which  always  held 
the  foremost  place  in  her  heart.  Her  eyes 
overflowed  as  Magdalen  joined  the  little  group 


under  the  portico ;  her  frail  hand  trembled  as 
it  sigaed  to  her  youngest  daughter  to  take  the 
vacant  chair  by  her  side.  "  We  were  talking 
of  your  father,"  she  said,  softly.  "  Oh,  my 
love,  if  your  married  life  is  only  as  happy — " 
Her  voice  failed  her ;  she  put  her  handker- 
chief hurriedly  over  her  face,  and  rested  her 
head  on  Magdalen's  shoulder.  Norah  looked 
appealingly  to  Miss  Garth,  who  at  once  led  the 
conversation  back  to  the  more  trivial  subject 
of  Mr.  Vanstone's  return.  "  We  have  all 
been  wondering,"  she  said,  with  a  significant 
look  at  Magdalen,  "  whether  your  father  will 
leave  Grailsea  in  time  to  catch  the  train  —  or 
whether  he  will  miss  it,  and  be  obliged  to 
drive  back.     What  do  you  say  ?" 

"  I  say  papa  will  miss  the  train,"  replied 
Magdalen,  taking  Miss  Garth's  hint  with  her 
customary  quickness."  "  The  last  thing  he 
attends  to  at  Grailsea  will  be  the  business 
that  brings  him  there.  Whenever  he  has 
business  to  do  he  always  puts  it  off  to  the  last 
moment — doesn't  he,  mamma  ?" 

The  question  roused  her  mother  exactly  as 
Magdalen  had  intended  it  should.  "  Not  when 
his  errand  is  an  errand  of  kindness,"  said  Mrs. 
Vanstone.  "  He  has  gone  to  help  the  miller 
in  a  very  pressing  difficulty — " 

"  And  don't  you  know  what  he  '11  do  ?" 
persisted  Magdalen.  "He  '11  romp  with  the 
miller's  children,  and  gossip  with  the  mother, 
and  hob-and-nob  with  the  father.  At  the  last 
moment,  when  he  has  got  five  minutes  left  to 
catch  the  train,  he  '11  say,  '  Let  's  go  into  the 
counting-house  and  look  at  the  books.'  He  '11 
find  the  books  dreadfully  complicated ;  he  '11 
suggest  sending  tor  an  accountant ;  he  '11  set- 
tle the  business  ofl-hand  by  lending  the  montrj^, 
in  the  meantime ;  he  '11  jog  back  comfortably 
in  the  miller's  gig  ;  and  he  '11  tell  us  all  how 
pleasant  the  lanes  were  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening." 

The  little  character  -  sketch  which  these 
words  drew  was  too  faithful  a  likeness  not  to 
be  recognized.  Mrs.  Vanstone  shoAved  her 
appreciation  of  it  by  a  smile.  "  When  your 
father  returns,"  she  said,  "we  will  put  your 
account  of  his  proceedings  to  the  test.  I 
think,"  she  continued,  rising  languidly  from 
her  chair.  "I  had  better  go  indoors  again 
now,  and  rest  on  the  sofa  till  he  comes  back." 

The  little  group  under  the  portico  broke  up. 
Magdalen  slipped  away  into  the  garden  to 
hear  Frank's  account  of  the  interview  with 
his  father.  The  other  three  ladies  entered 
the  house  together.  When  Mrs.  Vanstone 
was  comfortably  established  on  the  sofa  Norah 
and  Miss  Garth  left  her  to  repose,  and  with- 
drew to  the  library  to  look  over  the  last  parcel 
of  books  from  London. 

It  was  a  quiet,  cloudless  summer's  day.  The 
heat  was  tempered  by  a  light  western  breeze  ; 
the  voices  of  laborers  at  work  in  a  field  near 
reached  the  house  cheerfully  ;  the  clock-bell 
of  the  village  church,  as  it  struck  the  quar- 
ters, floated   down   the  wind  with  a  clearer 


NO  NAME. 


39 


lih^,  a  louder  ■  melody  than  usual.  Sweet 
odors  from  field  and  flower-garden,  stealing  in 
at  the  open  windows,  filled  the  house  with 
their  fragrance ;  and  the  birds  in  -Norah's 
aviary  up  stairs  sang  the  song  of  their  happi- 
ness exultingly  in  the  sun. 

As  the  church  clock  struck  the  quarter-past 
four  the  luorning-rooiu  door  ojwned,  and  ^Irs. 
Vanstone  crossed  the  hall  alone.  She  had 
tried  vainly  to  compose  herself.  She  was  too 
restless  to  "lie  still  and  sleep.  For  a  moment 
she  directed  her  steps  toward  the  portico,  then 
turned  and  looked  about  her,  doubtful  where 
to  go  or  what  to  do  next.  Wliile  she  was  still 
hesitating  the  half-open  door  of  her  husbaiui's 
stud)-  attracted  lier  attention.  The  room 
seemed  to  be  in  sad  contusion.  Drawers  werc^ 
left  open ;  coats  and  hats,  account-books  and 
papers,  pipes  and  fishing-rods  were  all  scat- 
tered about  together.  She  went  in  and  pushed 
the  door  to  — but  so  gently  that  she  still  h'tt  it 
ajar.  "  It  will  anmse  me  to  put  his  room  to 
rights,"  she  thought  to  hci-self  "  I  should 
like  to  do  something  for  him  before  I  am  down 
on  my  bed  helpless."  She  began  to  arrange 
his  drawers,  and  found  his  banker's  book  lying 
open  in  one  of  tliem.  '•  My  poor  dear,  how 
eareh^ss  he  is  !  The  servants  might  have  seen 
all  his  afiairs  if  I  had  not  happened  to  have 
looked  in."  She  set  the  drawers  right,  and 
then  turned  to  the  multifarious  litter  on  a 
side-table.  A  little  old-fashioned  music-book 
appeared  among  the  scattered  pajicrs,  with 
her  name  written  in  it,  in  faded  ink.  She 
blushed  like  a  young  girl  in  the  first  happiness 
of  the  discovery.  "  How  good  he  is  to  me  ! 
He  remembers  my  poor  old  music-book,  and 
keeps  it  for  my  sake."  As  she  sat  down  by 
the  table  and  opened  the  book  the  ])y-gone 
time  came  back  to  her  in  all  its  tenderness. 
The  clock  struck  the  halt-hour,  struck  tlie 
three-quarters  —  and  still  she  sat  there,  with 
the  music-book  on  her  lap,  dreaming  happily 
over  the  old  songs  ;  thinking  gratetully  of  the 
golden  days  when  his  hand  had  turned  the 
pages  for  her,  when  his  voice  had  whispered 
the  words  which  no  woman's  memory  ever 
forgets. 

Norah  roused  herself  from  the  volume  she 
•was  reading,  and  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the 
library  mantle-piece. 

"  If  jiapa  comes  back  by  railway,"  she  said, 
"  he  will  he  here  in  ten  minutes." 

Miss  (iarth  started,  and  looked  up  drowsily 
from  tiie  book  which  was  just  dropping  out  of 
her  hand. 

"  I  don't  think  he  will  come  by  train,"  she 
replied.  "He  will  jog  bade  —  as  Magdalen 
flippantly  expressed  it — in  the  miller's  gig." 

As  she  said  the  words  there  was  a  knock  at 
the  library-floor.  The  footman  appeared  and 
addressed  himself  to  Miss  (iarth. 

"  A  person  wishes  to  see  you,  nui'am. 

"  Who  is  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am.     A  strangrer  to  me — 


a  respectable-looking  man  —  and  he  said  he 
particularly  wished  to  see  you." 

,  Miss  Garth  went  out  into  the  hall.  The 
footman  closed  the  library-door  after  her,  and 
withdrew  down  the  kitchen-stairs. 

The  man  stood  just  inside  the  door,  on  the 
mat.  His  eyes  wandered,  his  face  was  pale — 
he  looked  ill ;  he  looked  frightened.  lie  trilled 
nervously  with  his  cap,  and  shifted  it  back- 
ward and  forward,  from  one  hand  to  the  other. 

"  You  wanted  to  sec  me  ?"  said  JMiss  Garth. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am.  You  are  not 
Mrs.  Vanstone,  care  you  '?" 

"  Certainly  not.  I  am  Miss  Garth.  Why 
do  you  ask  the  question  V" 

"  1  am  employed  in  the  clerk's  otlice  at 
Grailsea  Station — " 

"  Yes  ':"" 

"  I  am  sent  here — " 

Ho  stopped  again.  His  wandering  eyes 
looking  down  at  the  mat,  and  his  restless 
hands  wrung  his  cap  harder  and  harder.  He 
moistened  his  dry  lips,  and  tried  once  more. 

"  I  am  sent  here  on  a  very  serious  errand." 

"  Serious  to  me  f" 

"  Serious  to  all  in  this  house." 

Miss  Garth  took  one  step  nearer  to  him  — 
took  one  steady  look  at  his  fac^e.  She  turned 
cold  in  the  summer  heat.  "  Stop  !"  she  said, 
with  a  sudden  distrust,  and  glanced  aside 
anxiously  at  the  door  of  the  morning-room. 
It  was  safely  closed.  "  Tell  me  the  worst, 
and  don't  speak  loud.  There  has  been  an 
accident.     Where  ?" 

"  (3n  the  railway.  Close  to  Grailsea  Station." 

"  The  up-train  to  London  ?" 

"  No:  the  down-train  at  one-fifty — " 

"  God  Almighty  help  us  !  The  train  Mr. 
Vanstone  traveled  by  to  Grailsea  ?" 

"  The  same.  I  was  sent  here  by  the  up- 
train  :  the  line  was  just  cleared  in  time  for  it. 
They  wouldn't  write  ;  they  said  I  must  see 
'  ]\Iiss  Garth,'  and  tell  her.  There  are  seven 
passengers  badly  hurt,  and  two — " 

The  next  word  tailed  on  his  lips:  he  raised 
his  hand  in  the  dead  silence.  With  eyes  that 
opened  wide  in  horror,  he  raised  his  hand  and 
pointed  over  Miss  Garth's  shoulder. 

She  turned  a  little,  and  looked  back. 

Face  to  face  with  her,  on  the  threshold  of 
the  studv-door,  stood  the  mistress  of  the  l)ouse. 
She  held  hei-  old  nnisi.-book  clutched  fast 
mechanicallv  in  botli  hands.  She  stood,  the 
spectre  of  herself  With  a  drearlful  vacancy 
in  her  eves,  with  a  dreadful  stillness  in  her 
voice,  she  repeated  the  man's  last  wrtrds : 

"  Seven  passengers  badly  liurt,  and  two — " 

Her  tortured  fingers  relaxed  their  hold  ;  the 
book  dropped  from  them;  she  sank  forward 
heavilv-  Mi-''^  (Jarth  caught  her  before  she 
fell  —  caught  her;  and  turned  upon  the  man, 
with  the  wife's  swooning  body  in  her  arms,  to 
hear  the  husband's  fate. 

"  The  harm  is  done,"  she  said  :  "  you  may 
speak  out.     Is  he  wounded  or  dead  ?" 

"  Dead  !" 


40 


NO  NAME. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  sun  sank  lower;  the  western  breeze 
floatea  cool  and  fresh  into  the  house.  As  the 
evening  advanced  the  cheerful  ring  of  the 
village  clock  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Field 
and  flower-garden  felt  the  influence  of  the 
hour,  and  shed  their  sweetest  fragrance.  The 
birds  in  Norah's  aviary  sunned  themselves  in 
the  evening  stillness,  and  sang  their  farewell 
gratitude  to  the  dying  day. 

Staggered  in  its  progress  for  a  time  only, 
the  pitiless  routine  of  the  house  went  horribly 
on  its  daily  way.  The  panic-stricken  servants 
took  their  blind  refuge  iu  llie  duties  proper  to 
the  hour.  The  footman  softly  laid  the  table 
for  dinner.  The  maid  sat  waiting  in  senseless 
doubt,  with  the  hot-water  jugs  for  the  bed- 
rooms i-anged  near  her  in  their  customary 
row.  The  gardener,  who  had  been  ordered 
to  come  to  his  master  with  vouchers  for  money 
that  he  had  paid  in  excess  of  his  instructions, 
said  his  character  was  dear  to  him,  and  left 
the  vouchers  at  his  appointed  time.  Custom 
that  never  yields,  and  death  that  never  spares, 
met  on  the  wreck  of  humati  happiness  —  and 
death  gave  waj\ 

Heavily  the  thunder-clouds  of  affliction  had 
gathered  over  the  house  —  heavily,  but  not  at 
their  darkest  yet.  At  five  that  evening  the 
shock  of  the  calamity  had  struck  its  blow. 
Before  another  hour  had  passed  the  disclosure 
of  the  husband's  sudden  death  was  Ibllowed 
by  the  suspense  of  the  wife's  mortal  peril. 
She  lay  helpless  on  her  Avidowed  bed,  her  own 
life  and  the  life  of  her  unborn  child  trembling 
in  the  balance. 

But  one  mind  still  held  possession  of  its  re- 
sources—  but  one  guiding  spirit  now  moved 
helpfully  in  the  house  of  mourning. 

If  Miss  Garth's  early  days  had  been  passed 
as  calmly  and  as  happily  as  her  later  life  at 
Combe-Raven  she  might  have  sunk  under  the 
cruel  necessities  of  the  time.  But  the  gov- 
erness's youth  had  been  tried  in  the  ordeal  of 
family  aflllction,  and  she  met  her  terrible  du- 
ties with  the  steady  courage  of  a  woman  Avho 
had  learned  to  suffer.  Alone  she  had  faced 
the  trial  of  telling  the  dauglitcrs  that  they 
were  fatherless.  Alone  she  now  struggled  to 
sustain  them,  when  the  dreadful  i;ertainty  of 
their  bereavement  was  at  last  impressed  on 
their  minds. 

Her  least  anxiety  was  for  the  elder  sister. 
The  agony  of  Norah's  grief  had  forced  its 
way  outward  to  the  natural  relief  of  tears.  It 
■was  not  so  with  Magdalen.  Tearless  and 
speechless,  she  sat  in  the  room  where  the  rev- 
elation of  her  father's  death  had  first  reached 
her;  her  face,  unnaturally  petrified  by  the 
sterile  sorrow  of  old  age — a  white,  changeless 
blank,  fearful  to  look  at.  Nothing  roused, 
nothing  melted  her.  She  only  said,  "  Don't 
speak  to  me ;  don't  toucli  me.  Let  me  bear  it 
by  myself!" — and  fell  silent  again.  The  first 
great  grief  which   had  darkened   the  sisters' 


lives  had,  as  it  seemed,  changed  their  every- 
day characters  already. 

The  twilight  fell  and  faded,  and  the  summer 
night  came  brightly.  As  the  first  carefully- 
shaded  light  was  kindled  in  the  sick-room  the 
physician  who  had  been  summoned  from  Bris- 
tol arrived  to  consult  with  the  medical  attend- 
ant of  the  family.  He  could  give  no  comfort : 
he  could  only  say,  "  We  must  try,  and  hope. 
The  shock  which  struck  her,  when  she  over- 
heard the  news  of  her  husband's  death,  has 
prostrated  her  strength  at  the  time  when  she 
needed  it  most.  No  effort  to  preserve  her 
shall  be  neglected.  I  will  stay  here  for  the 
night." 

He  opened  one  of  the  windows  to  admit 
more  air  as  he  spoke.  The  view  overlooked 
the  drive  in  front  of  the  house,  and  the  road 
outside.  Little  groups  of  people  were  stand- 
ing before  tlie  lodge-gates,  looking  in.  "If 
those  persons  make  any  noise,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "  they  must  be  warned  away."  There 
was  no  need  to  warn  them :  they  were  only 
the  laborers  who  had  worked  on  the  dead 
man's  property,  and  here  and  there  some 
women  and  children  from  the  village.  They 
wei'e  all  thinking  of  him  —  some  talking  of 
him — and  it  quickened  their  sluggish  m'nds  to 
look  at  his  house.  The  gentlefolks  thereabout 
were  mostly  kind  to  them  (the  men  said),  but 
none  like  him.  The  women  whispered  to  each 
other  of  his  comforting  ways  when  he  came 
into  their  cottages.  "  He  was  a  cheerful  man, 
poor  soul,  and  thoughtful  of  us  too  :  he  never 
came  in  and  stared  at  mealtimes ;  the  rest  of 
'em  help  us,  and  scold  us  —  all  he  ever  said 
was,  better  luck  next  time."  So  they  stood, 
and  talked  of  him,  and  looked  at  his  house 
and  grounds,  and  moved  off"  clumsily  by  twos 
and  threes,  with  the  dim  sense  that  the  sight 
of  his  pleasant  face  would  never  comfort  them 
again.  The  dullest  head  among  them  knew 
that  night  that  the  hard  ways  of  poverty 
would  be  all  the  harder  to  walk  on  now  he 
was  gone. 

A  little  later  news  was  brought  to  the  bed- 
chamber door  that  old  Mr.  Clare  had  come 
alone  to  the  house,  and  was  waiting  in  the  hall 
below  to  hear  what  the  physician  said.  Miss 
Garth  was  not  able  to  go  down  to  him  herself: 
she  sent  a  message.  He  said  to  the  servant, 
"  I  '11  come  and  ask  again  in  two  hours  time" — 
and  went  out  slowly.  Unlike  other  men  in 
all  things  else,  the  sudden  death  of  his  old 
friend  had  produced  no  discernible  change  in  : 
him.  The  feeling  implied  in  the  errand  of 
inquiry  that  had  brought  him  to  the  house  was 
the  one  betrayal  of  human  sympathy  which 
escaped  the  rugged,  impenetrable  old  man. 

He  came  again  when  the  two  hours  had 
expired,  and  this  time  Miss  Garth  saw  him. 

They  shook  hands  in  silence.  She  waited ; 
she  nerved  herself  to  hear  him  speak  of  his  lost 
fi'iend.  No  :  he  never  mentioned  the  dreadful 
accident,  he  never  alluded  to  the  dreadful 
death.     He  said  these  words:  "Is  she  butter, 


NO  NAME. 


41 


or  -worse  ?"  and  said  no  mm-e.  Was  the  tribute 
of  his  prief  for  the  husband  sternly  suppressed 
under  the  expression  of  his  anxiety  lor  the 
wife  ?  Tiie  nature  of  the  man,  unpliably  an- 
tagonistic to  the  woi-ld  and  the  world's  cus- 
toms, misrlit  justify  some  such  interpretation 
of  his  conduc"t  as  this.  He  repeated  his  ques-  ' 
tion.  "  Is  she  better,  or  worse  V" 

]\Iiss  Garth  answered  liim. 

"No  better;  if  there  is  any  chance;  it  is  a 
chanjje  for  the  worse." 

Tiiev  spoke  these  words  at  the  window  of 
the  niorninir-room  which  o])ene(l  to  the  jjar- 
den.     ]Mr.  Clare  paused  after  hearinc;  the  re-  | 
plv  to  his  incjuiry,  stepped  out  on   the  walk,  [ 
then  turned  on  a  sudden,  and  spoke  aijain  :       ; 

'■  lias  the  doctor  given  lier  u]i  V"  lie  asked,  i 

'•  He  has  not  concealed  fi-om  us  that  she  is  in  i 
danger.     We  can  only  pray  for  her."  t- 

The  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  Miss  Garth'l 
arm  as  she  answei-ed  him,  and  looked  her  atten- 
tively in  the  face. 

"  You  believe  in  prayer  ?"  he  said. 

Miss  Garth  drew  sorrowfully  back  from 
him. 

'•You  might  have  spared  me  that  question. 
Sir,  at  such  a  time  as  this." 

He  took  no  notice  of  her  answer ;  his  eyes 
were  still  tastened  on  her  face. 

"  Pray,"  he  said,  "  as  you  never  prayed 
before,  ibr  the  preservation  of  Mrs.  Van- 
stone's  life." 

He  left  her.  His  voice  and  manner  implied 
some  unutterable  dread  of  the  future  wiiich 
his  words  had  not  confessed.  IMiss  Garth  fol- 
lowed him  into  the  garden  and  called  to  him. 
He  heard  her,  but  he  never  turne<l  l)ack ;  he 
cpiickened  W\i  pace,  as  if  he  desired  to  avoid 
her.  She  wat<'hed  him  across  the  lawn  in  the 
wai-ni  summer  moonlight.  She  saw  his  white 
withered  hands,  saw  them  suddenly  against 
the  black  back -ground  of  the  shrubbery, 
raised  and  wrung  above  his  head.  They 
dropped  —  the  trees  siwouded  him  in  dark- 
ness— he  was  gone. 

Miss  Garth  went  back  to  the  snlfering. 
woman  with  the  burden  on  her  mind  of  one 
anxiety  nion'. 

It  was  then  past  eleven  o'clock.  Some 
little  time  hail  elapsed  .Mnce  she  had  seen  the 
.sisters  and  spoken  to  them.  The  inquiries  she 
adtiri'ssed  to  one  of  the  female  servants  only 
elirited  the  information  that  they  were  both 
in  their  rooms.  She  delayed  her  return  to  the 
mother'»  bedside  to  say  iier  parting  words  of 
comfort  to  the  daiitriiters  betore  six-  left  them 
for  the  night.  Nor.di's  room  was  the  nearest. 
She  softly  opened  the  door  and  looked  in. 
The  kneeling  figure  by  the  Vjedside  told  Jut 
that  God's  help  had  found  the  fatherless 
daughter  in  her  aflliction.  Grateful  tears 
gathcrcfl  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked:  she 
softly  closed  the  door.  an<l  went  on  to  Mag- 
dalen's roonj.  There  doubt  stayed  her  feet 
at  the  threshold,  and  she  waited  i'm-  a  moment 
belbrc  going  in. 


A  sound  in  the  room  caught  her  car  —  the  " 
monotonous  rustling  of  a  woman's  dress,  now 
distant,  now  near;  passing  without  cessation 
from  end  to  end  over  the  floor — a  sound  which 
told  her  that  Magdalen  was  pacing  to  and  fro 
in  the  secrecy  of  her  own  chamber.  Miss 
Garth  knocked-.  The  rustling  ceased;  the 
door  was  opened,  and  the  sad  younjEf'  face 
confronted  her,  locked  in  its  cold  despair; 
the  large  light  eyes  looked  mechanically  into 
hers,  as  vacant  and  as  tearless  as  ever. 

That  look  wrung  tistr  heart  of  the  faithful 
woman,  who  had  trained   her  and  loved  her 
from  a  child.     She  took   Magdalen  tenderjy ' 
in  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  my  love,"  she  said,  "  no  tears  yet !  Oh, 
if  I  could  see  you  as  I  have  seen  Norah  !  Speak 
to  me,  M.agdalen— try  if  you  can  speak  to  me !" 

She  tried,  and  h'poke  : 

.''  Norah,"  she  said,  "  feels  no  remorse.  He 
was  not  serving  Norah's  interests  when  he 
went  to  his  death  :  he  was  serving  mine." 

With  that  terril)le  answer  she  put  her  cold 
lips  to  IMiss  Garth's  cheek. 

"  T>et  me  bear  it  by  myself,"  she  said,  and 
giMitly  closed  the  dooi\ 

Again  Miss  (iarth  waited  at  the  tlireshold, 
and  again  the  sound  of  the  rustling  dress  passed 
to  and  iro — now  tar,  now  near — (o  and  fro 
with  a  cruel,  mechanical  regularity  that  chilled 
the  warmest  sympathy  and  daunted  the  bold- 
est hope. 

The  night  passed.  It  had  been  agreed,  if 
no  change  for  the  better  showed  itself  by  the 
morning,  that  the  London  physician  whom 
jSIrs.  Vanstone  had  consulted  some  months 
since  should  be  summoned  to  the  house  on  the 
next  day.  No  change  for  the  better  appeared, 
and  the  physician  was  sent  for. 

As  the  morning  advanced  Frank  came  to 
make  inquiries  from  the  cottage.  Had  Mr. 
Ciare  intrusted  to  his  son  the  duty  wdiich  He 
had  personally  performed  on  the  previous  day, 
through  reluctance  to  meet  ]Miss  (Jarth  again 
after  what  he  had  said  to  her?  It  might  be 
so.  Frank  couM  throw  no  light  on  the  sub- 
ject ;  he  was  not  in  his  father's  confidence. 
He  looked  pale  and  bewildered.  His  first  in- 
quiries at'ter  Magdalen  sliowcd  how  his  weak 
nature,  had  been  shaken  by  the  catastrophe. 
He  was  not  capable  of  framing  his  own  ques- 
tions: the  words  faltered  on  his  lips,  and  tho 
ready  tears  came  into  ins  eyes.  Mii^s  Garth's 
heart  warmed  to  him  for  the  first  time.  Grief 
has  this  that  is  noVde  in  it — it  a«;cepts  all  sym- 
j)athv,  come  whence  it  may.  She  encouraged 
the  lad  by  a  few  kind  words,  and  took  his  hand 
at  parting. 

before  noon  Frank  returned  with  a  second 
I  message.  His  fatlier  desired  to  know  whether 
Mr.  Tendril  was  not  ex])ected  at  Combe-Ra- 
ven on  that  day.  If  the  lawyer's  arrival  was 
looked  iW,  Frank  wa"*  <iireeted  to  be  in  at- 
tendance at  th.'  station,  and  to  take  him  to  the 
cottage,  where  a. bed  would  be  placed  at  his 
disposal.     This  message  took  Miss  G«rtfa  by 


42 


NO  NAME. 


surprise.     It  showed  that  Mr.  Clare  had  been  | 
uinde   acquainted  vith  his  dead  friend's  j'ur- 
pose  of  sending  for  ]Mr.  Pendril.     Was  the  old  : 
man's  thoughtful  otter  of  hospitality  another 
indirect  expression  of  the  natural  human  dis-  ' 
tress  v/hich  he  perversely  comealed  ?  or  was 
he   aware  of    some   secret  necessity  for  Mr. 
Pendril's   presence,   of   which   the    bereaved 
family  had  been  kept  in  total  ignorance  ?  Miss  i 
Garth  was  too  heart-sick  and  iiopelcss  to  <lwell 
on  either  cjucstion.     She  tohl  Frank  that  IMr.  \ 
Ptndril  had  been  expected   at  three  o'clock,  1 
and  sent  him  back  with  her  thanks. 

Shortly  after  his  departure,  such  anxieties  j 
on  Magdalen's  account  as  her  mind  was  now  : 
able  to  feel  were  relieved  by  better  news  than  ; 
her  last  night's  experience  had  inclined  her  to  \ 
hope  for.  "Norah's  intluence  had  been  exerted  ; 
to  rouse  her  sister,  and  Norah's  patient  sympa-  j 
thv  had  set  the  prisoned  grief  free.  IMagdak-n  j 
had  suffered  severely  —  suffered  inevitably,! 
with  such  a  nature  as  hers  —  in  the  ettbrt  th;it 
relieved  her.  The  healing  tears  had  not  come  | 
cently;  they  had  burst  from  her  with  a  toi'tur-  j 
intr,  passionate  vehemence ;  but  Norah  had  i 
ne^-er  left  her  till  the  struggli^  was  over  and 
the  calm  had  come.  These  better  tidings  en- 
couraged Miss  Garth  to  withdraw  to  her  own  [ 
room,  and  to  take  the  rest  which  she  needed  i 
sorely.  Worn  out  in  body  and  mind,  she  slept  I 
from  sheer  exhaustion  —  slept  heavily  and  | 
dreamlessly  for  some  hours.  It  was  between  j 
three  and  four  in  the  afternoon  when  she  was  • 
roused  by  one  of  the  female  servants.  The  | 
Avoman  had  a  note  in  her  hand — a  note  left  by  [ 
Mr.  Clare  the  younger,  with  a  message  desiring  ! 
that  it  might  be  delivered  to  Miss  Garth  im-  j 
mediately.  The  name  written  in  the  lower  i 
corner  of  the  envelope  was ''  William  Pendril." 
The  lawyer  had  arrived. 

Miss  Garth  opened  the  note.  After  a  few  | 
first  sentences  of  sympathy  and  condolence  the 
writer  announced  his  arrival  at  Mr.  Clare's, 
and  then  proceeded,  apparently  in  his  pro- 
fessional capacity,  to  make  a  very  startling 
request. 

"  If,"  he  wrote,  '•  any  change  for  the  better 
in  Mrs.  Vanstone  should  take  place — wlu'ther 
it  is  only  an  improvement  for  the  time,  or 
whether  it  is  the  permanent  improvement  for 
which  we  all  hope  —  in  cither  case  I  entreat 
you  to  let  me  know  of  it  immediately.  Il  is  of 
.the  last  importance  that  I  shouhl  see  her,  in  the 
event  of  her  gaining  strength  enough  to  give 
me  her  attention  for  five  minutes,  and  of  her 
being  able  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  to 
sign  her  name.  May  I  beg  that  you  M-ill  com- 
municate my  rcfiuest,  in  the  strictest  confi- 
dence, to  the  medical  men  in  attendance. 
They  will  understand,  and  you  will  understand, 
the  vital  importance  I  attach  to  this  interview, 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  arranged  to  defer 
to  it  all  other  business  claims  on  me,  and  that 
I  hold  myself  in  readiness  to  obey  your  sum- 
mons at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night." 

In  those  terms  the  letter  ended.    Miss  Garth 


read  it  twir-e  over.  At  the  second  reading,  the 
request  which  the  lawyer  now  addressed  to 
hir.  and  the  farewell  words  which  had  escaped 
jMr.  Clare's  lips  the  day  before,  connected 
themselves  vaguely  in  her  mind.  There  was 
some  other  serious  interest  in  suspense,  known 
to  Mr.  Pendril  and  known  to  Mr.  Clare,  be- 
sides tlie  first  and  foremost  interest  of  Mrs. 
Yanstone's  recovery.  Whom  did  it  affect? 
The  children  V  Were  the}-  threatened  by  some 
new  calamity  which  their  mother's  signature 
miffht  avert V  What  did  it- mean?  Did  it 
mean  that  Mr.  Vanstone  had  died  without 
leaving  a  will  ? 

In  iier  distress  and  confusion  of  mind  Miss 
Garth  was  incapable  of  reasoning  with  herself 
as  she  might  have  reasoned  at  a  happier  time. 
She  hastened  to  the  antechandier  of  Mrs.  j 
Vanstonc's  room,  and,  after  explaining  Mr.^l 
Pendril's  position  toward  the  family,  placed 
his  letter  in  the  hands  of  the  medical  men. 
Thcv  both  answered  without  hesitation  to  the 
same  purpose.  Mrs.  Yanstone's  condition  ren- 
dered an}'  such  interview  as  the  lawyer  desired 
a  total  impossibility.  If  she  rallied  from  her 
present  prostration.  Miss  Garth  should  be  at 
once  informed  of  the  improvement.  In  the 
meantime,  the  answer  to  ^Ir.  Pendril  might 
be  conveyed  in  one  word — Impossible. 

"  You  "see  what  imjiortanee  IMr.  Pendril  at- 
taches to  the  interview  V"  said  Miss  Garth. 
Yes :  both  the  doctois  saw  it. 
"  My  mind  is  lost  and  confused,  gentlemen, 
in  this  dreadful  suspense.  Can  you  either  of 
vou  guess  why  the  signature  is  wanted?  or 
what'the  object  of  the  interview  may  b(i  ?  I. 
have  only  seen  Mi-.  Pendril  when  he  has  come 
here  on  formei-  visits :  I  have  no  claim  to  jus- 
tify me  in  questioning  him.  Will  you  look  at 
the  letter  again  ?  Do  you  think  it  implies 
that  Mr.  Yanstone  Iws  never  made  a  will  ?" 

"I  think  it  can  hardly  imply  that,"  said  one 

of  the  doctors.     "  But,  even    supposing    Mr. 

i  Yanstone  to  have  died  intestate,  the  law  takes 

due   care   of  tlie  intei-ests  of  his  widow  and 

his  chiidren — " 

"  Would  it  do  so,"  interposed  the  other 
I  medical  man,  "  if  the  property  happened  to 
1  be  in  land?" 

"I  am  not  sure  in  that  case.     Do  you  hap- 
pen to  know,  Miss  Garth,  whether  Mr.  Yan- 
!  stone's  property  was  in  money  or  in  land  ?" 

'•  In  money,"  replied  Miss  Garth.  "  I  have 
;  heard  him  say  so  on  more  than  one  occasion." 
i  "  Then  I  can  relieve  your  mind  by  jpeaking 
from  my  own  experience.  The  law,  if  he  has 
,  died  intestate,  gives  a  third  of  his  property  to 
j  his  willow,  ancrdivides  the  rest  equally  among 
I  his  children." 

'  "  But  if  Mrs.  Yanstone—?" 
'  "  If  Mrs.  Yanstone  should  die,"  pursued  the 
doctor,  completing  the  question  which  Miss 
Garth  had  not  the  lieart  to  conclude  for  her- 
self, "  I  believe  I  am  right  in  telling  you  that 
the  pro[)erty  would,  as  a  matter  of  legal  course, 
go  to  the  children.     Whatever  necessity  there 


NO  NAME. 


43 


may  be  for  the  interview  ^i^hich  Mr.  Pendril 
■requests,  I  c-an  see  no  reason  tor  connecting  it 
:*itli  the  question  of  Mr.  Vaustone's  presumoil 
-intestacy.  But  by  all  mnans  put  the  question 
for  the  satisfaction,  of  yoarown  mind,  to  Mr. 
Peu'lril  himself.'' 

Miss  Garili  ,withdrew  to  taki»  the  oours(! 
whidi  the  doctor  advised.  After  '.'ommuni cas- 
ing to  Mr.  Pendril  the  medical  decision  which, 
thus  far,  refused  him  the  interview  tliat  he 
sought,  she  adchul  a  brief  stitement  of  the 
legal  question  slie  had  put  to  the  do  "tors,  and 
hinted  delicately  at  her  natural  anxiety  to  be 
informed  of  the  motives  which  hid  led  the 
lawyer  to  make  his  request.  The  answer  she 
received  was  guarded  in  the  extreme  :  it  did 
not  impress  her  with  a  favorable  opinion  of 
Mr.  Pendril.  He  confirmed  the  doctors'  in- 
terpretation of  the  law  in  general  term<  only; 
expressed  his  intention  of  waiting  at  the  cot- 
tage, in  the  hope  that  a  change  for  the  better 
might  yet  enable  Mrs.  Vanstonc  to  see  him; 
and  closed  his  letter  without  the  slightest  ex- 
planation of  his  motives,  and  without  a  word 
of  reference  to  the  (juestion  of  the  e.xistence 
or  the  non-e.xistence  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  will. 

The  marked  caution  of  the  lawyer's  reph' 
dwelt  uneasily  on  Miss  Garth's  mind,  until  the 
long-expected  event  of  th"  day  recalled  all 
her  thoughts  to  her  one  absorbing  anxiety  on 
Mrs.  Vanstone's  account. 

Early  in  tlie  evening  the  physician  iVom 
London  arrived.  He  watched  long  by  the 
bedside  of  tlie  sulTering  woman  ;  lu;  remained 
longer  still  in  consultation  with  his  medical 
brethren  ;  he  went  back  again  to  the  sick- 
room, before  Miss  Gai-th  could  prevail  on  him 
to  communicate  to  her  the  opinion  at  which 
he  had  arrived. 

When  he  came  out  into  the  antechamber 
for  the  second  time  he  silently  took  a  chair 
by  her  side.  She  looked  in  his  face,  and  the 
Last  faint  hope  died  in  her  before  he  opened 
his  lips. 

"  1  must  speak  the  hard  truth,"  he  said, 
pently.  "  AH  that  cnn  be  done  has  be6n  done. 
Tiic  next  four-and-twenly  hours,  at  most,  will 
end  your  suspense.  If  Nature  makes  no  elfort 
in  that  time — I  grieve  to  say  it — you  must 
prepare  yourself  for  the  worst.'' 

Those  words  said  all :  they  were  prophetic 
of  the  end. 

The  night  passed,  and  she  lived  through  it. 
The  next  day  came,  and  she  lingered  on  till 
the  clock  pointed  to  five.  At  tliat  lioiir  the 
tidings  ot'  her  husbands  death  had  dealt 
the  mortal  blow.  When  the  hour  eani';  round 
again,  the  mercy  of  (Jod  let  her  go  to  him  in 
the  better  world.  Her  daughters  were  kneel- 
ing at  the  bedside  as  her  spirit  passed  awav. 
She  left  them  unconscious  of  their  presence, 
mercifully  and  ha])j)ily  insensible  to  the  pang 
of  the  la>t  farewell,  i 

Her  child  survived  her  till  the  evening  was 
on  the  wane,  aud  the  sunset  was  dim  in  the  ' 


quiet  western  heaven.  As  the  darkhess  came, 
the  light  of  the  frail  little  life  — faint  and 
feeble  from  the  first — flickered  and  went  out. 
AH  that  wcis  earthly  of  mother  and  child  lay 
that  night  on  the  same  bed.  The  Angel  of 
Death  had  done  his  awful  bidding,  and  the 
two  Sisters  were  left  alone  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  Xri. 

Earlier  than  usual,  on  the  morning  of 
Thursday,  the  twenty-third  of  July,  Mr.  Clare 
appeared  at  the  do:ir  of  his  cottage,  and 
stepptul  out  into  the  little  strip  of  garden  at- 
tached to  his  residence. 

After  he  had  taken  a  few  turns  backward 
aud  forward  alone,  he  was  joined  by  a  spare, 
quiet,  gray-haired  imn,  whose  personal  ap- 
pear.vni-e  was  totally  devoid  of  marked  char- 
acter of  any  kind ;  whose  inexpressive  face 
and  conventionally  quiet  manner  presented 
nothing  that  attracted  approval,  and  nothing 
that  inspired  dislike.  Tais  was  Mr.  Pendril 
— this  was  the  man  on  who-se  lips  hung  the 
future  of  the  orphans  at  Coml)c-R,iven. 

"  The  time  is  getting  on, '  he  said,  looking 
toward  the  shrubbery,  as  he  joined  Mr.  Clare. 
"  My  appointmmt  with  Miss  Garth  is  for 
eleven  o'clock ;  it  only  wants  ten  minutes  of 
the  hour," 

"  Are  you  to  see  her  alone  ?"  asked  Mr, 
Clare. 

"  I  left  Miss  Garth  to  decide  —  after  warn- 
ing her  first  of  all  that  the  circumstances  I  am 
compelled  to  disclose  are  of  a  very  serious 
nature." 

"  And  has  she  derided  ?" 

"  She  writes  me  word  that  she  mentioned 
my  appointment,  and  repeated  the  warning  I 
had  given  her  to  both  the  daughters.  The 
eliler  of  the  two  shrinks  —  and  who  can  won- 
der at  it  —  t'rom  any  discussion  connected 
with  the  future  which  requires  her  presence 
so  soon  as  the  day  after  the  funeral.  Tiie 
younger  one  appears  to  have  expressed  no 
opinion  on  the  subject.  As  I  un<lerstand  it, 
she  suffers  herself  to  be  passively  guided  by 
her  sister's  example.  My  interview,  there- 
fore, will  take  place  with  Miss  Garth  alone — 
and  it  is  a  very  great  relief  to  me  to  know  it." 

He  spoke  the  last  words  with  more  empha- 
sis and  energv  than  semed  habitual  to  him. 
Mr.  Clare  stopped,  and  looked  at  his  guest 
attentively. 

"  You  are  almost  as  old  as  %  am,  S'lr,"  he 
said.  "  Has  all  your  long  experience  as  a 
lawyer  not  hardened  you  yet  ?" 

"  I  never  knew  how  little  it  had  hardened 
me,"  replied  Mr.  Pemlril,  quietly,  "  until  I  re- 
turned from  London  yesterday  to  attend  the 
funeral.  I  wa?  not  warned  that  the  daughters 
had  resolved  on  following  their  parents  to  the 
grave.  I  think  their  presence  made  the  closing 
scene  of  this  dreadful  calamity  doubly  painfuL 


44 


NO  NAME. 


and  doubly  touch! n<j.  You  saw  how  the  great 
concourse  of  people  Avere  moved  by  it —  and 
tliey  Avere  in  lonorance  of  the  ti-uth ;  Ihcji 
knew  nothing  of  the  cruel  necessity  Avhich 
takes  me  to  the  house  this  morning.  The 
sense  of  that  necessity— and  the  sight  of  those 
poor  girls  at  the  time,  when  I  felt  my  hard 
duty  toward  them  most  painfully —  shook  me 
as  a  man  of  my  years  and  my  way  of  life  is 
not  often  shaken  by  any  distress  in  the  pres- 
ent, or  any  suspense  in  the  futuro.  I  have 
not  recovered  it  this  morning;  1  hardly  feel 
sure  of  myself  yet." 

"  A  man's  composure  —  when  he  is  a  man 
like  you — comes  with  the  necessity  for  it," 
said  Mr.  Clare.  "'You  must  have  had  duties 
to  perform  as  trying  in  their  way  as  the  duty 
that  lies  before  you  this  morning." 

Mr.  Pendril  shook  his  head.  "  Many  duties 
as  serious ;  many  stories  more  romantic.  No 
duty  so  trying,  no  story  .so  hopeless  as  this." 

With  those  words  they  parted.  ]Mr.  Pendril 
left  the  garden  for  the  shrubbdr}-  jiath  which 
led  to  Combe-Raven,  Llr.  Clare  rerurned  to 
the  cottage. 

On  reaching  the  passage  he  looked  through 
the  open  door  of  his  little  parlor,  and  saAv 
Frank  sitting' there  in  idle  wretchedness,  with 
his  head  resting  wearliy  on  his  hand. 

"  I  have  had  an  answer  from  your  employers 
in  London,"  said  Mr.  Clare.  "  In  considera- 
tion of  what  has  happened,  they  will  allow  the 
offer  they  made  you  to  stand  over  for  another 
month." 

Frank  changed  color,  and  rose  nervously 
from  his  chair. 

"  Are  rfiy  prospects  altered  V"  he  asked. 
"  Are  Mr.  Vanstone's  plans  ibr  me  not  to  be 
carried  out  ?  He  told  Magdalen  his  will  had 
provided  for  her.  She  repeat<Hl  his  words  to 
me;  she  saifl  I  ought  to  know  all  that  his  good- 
ness and  generosity  had  done  for  both  of  us. 
How  can  his  death  make  a  change  V  Has 
anything  happened  ? 

'•  Wait  till  Mr.  Pendril  comes  back  from 
Combe-Uaven,"  said  his  father.  •'  Question 
him  ;  don't  question  me." 

The  ready  tears  rose  in  Frank's  eyes. 

"  You  won't  be  hard  on  me  ?"  he  pleaded 
faintly.  "  You  won't  expect  me  to  go  back  to 
London  without  seeing  Magdalen  lii'st  V" 

Mr.  Clare  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  son, 
and  considered  a  little,  before  he  replied. 

"  You  may  dry  your  eyes,"  he  said.  "  You 
shall  see  MagUalcn  before  you  go  back." 

He  left  the  room  after  making  that  reply, 
and  withdrew  to  his  study.  The  books  lay 
ready  to  his  hand,  as  usual.  He  opened  one 
of  them,  and  set  himself  to  read  in  the  c^is- 
tomary  manner.  But  his  attention  wandered, 
and  his  eyes  strayed  away  from  time  to  time 
to  the  empty  chair  opposite  —  the  chair  in 
Avhich  his  old  friend  and  gossip  had  sat  and 
wrangled  with  him  good-humoredly  for  many 
and  many  a  year  past.  After  a  struggle  with 
himself   he  closed  the    book.     "  Damn   the 


chair  !"  he  said :  "  it  xoill  talk  of  him,  and  I 
must' listen."  He  reached  down  his  pipe  from 
the  wall,  and  mechanically  filled  it  with  to-, 
barco.  His  hand  shook,  his  eyes  wandered, 
back  to  the  old  place,  and  a  heavy  sigh  came 
from  him  unwillingly.  That  empty  chair  was 
the  only  earthly  argument  ibr  which  he  had  no 
answer:  his  heart  owned  its  defeat,  and  moist- 
ened his  eyes  in  spite  of  him.  "  He  has  got 
the  better  of  me  at  last,"  said  the  rugged  old 
man."  "  There  is  one  weak  place  left  in  me 
still,  and  lie  has  found  it." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Pendril  entered  the  shrub- 
bery, and  followed  the  path  which  led  to  the 
lonely  garden  and  the  desolate  house.  He 
was  met  at  the  door  by  the  man-servant,  who 
Avas  apparently  Avaiting  in  expectation  of  his 
arrival. 

"I  have  an  appointment  Avith  Miss  Garth. 
Is  she  ready  to  see  me  '?" 

"  Quite  ready,  Sir." 

"Is  she  alone V" 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

>'  In  the  room  Avhich  was  ^Ir.  Vanstone's 
study  ?" 

■•  In  that  room.  Sir." 

The  servant  opened  the  door,  and  Mr.  Pen- 
dril went  in. 

The  governess  stood  alone  at  the  study 
window.  The  morning  was  oppressively  hot, 
and  she  threAv  up  the  lower  sash  to  admit 
more  air  into  the  room  as  Mr.  Pendril  came  in. 

They  bowed  to  each  other  with  a  formal 
politeness  which  betrayed  on  either  side  an 
uneasy  sense  of  restraint.  Mr.  Pendril  was 
one  of  the  'many  men  Avho  appear  su]ieriicially 
to  the  Avorst  advantage  under  the  inlluence  of 
strong  mental  agitation  Avhich  it  is.  necessary 
for  them  to  control.  Miss  Garth,  on  her  side, 
had  not  forgotten  the  ungraciously  guarded 
terms  in  Avhich  the  lawyer  had  replied  to  her 
letter ;  and  the  natural  anxiety  Avhich  she  felt 
on  the  subject  of  the  iatervicAv  was  not  re- 
lieved hj  any  favorable  opinion  of  the  man 
who  sought  it.  As  they  confronted  each  other 
in  the  silence  of  the  summer's  morning — l)Oth 
dressed  in  black  :  Miss  Garth's  hard  features 
gaunt  and  haggard  Avith  grief;  the  lawyer's 
cold,  colorless  face,  void  of  all  marked  expres- 
sion, suggestive  of  a  business  embarrassment 
and  of  nothing  more  —  it  Avould  have  been 
hard  to  find  two  persons  less  attractive  exter- 
nally to  any  ordinary  sympathies  than  the  two 
Avho  had  noAV  met  together  —  the  one  to  tell, 
the  other  to  hear,  the  secrets  of  the  dead. 

"  I  am  sincerely  sorry.  Miss  Garth,  to  in- 
trude on  you  at  such  a  time  as  this.  But  cir- 
cumstances, as  I  have  already  explained,  leave 
meno  other  choice." 

"'  Will  you  take  a  seat,  Mr.  Pendril  ?  You 
wished  to  see  me  in  this  room,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Only  in  this  room  because  Mr.  Vanstone's 
papers  are  kept  here,  and  I  may  find  it  neces- 
sary to  refer  to  some  of  them." 

After  that  formal  interchange  of  questio|i 


NO  NAME. 


45 


and  answer,  they  sat  down  on  either  side  of  a 
table  placed  close  under  the  window.  One 
waited  to  speak,  the  other  waited  to  hear. 
There  was  a  momentary  silence.  Mr.  Pendril 
broke  it  by  referring  to  the  young  ladies  with 
the  customary  in()uiries  and  the  customary 
expressions  of  sympathy.  Miss  Garth  an- 
swered him  with  the  same  ceremony,  in  the 
same  conventional  tone.  Tiiere  was  a  second 
pause  ot  silence.  The  humming  of  Hies  among 
the  evergreen  shrubs  under  the  window  pene- 
trated drowsily  into  tlie  room,  and  the  tramp 
of  a  heavy-tooted  cart-horse,  ])lodding  along 
the  high-road  beyond  the  garden,  was  as 
plainly"  audible  in  the  stillness  as  if  it  had 
been  night. 

The  lawyer  roused  his  (lagging  resolution, 
and  spoke  to  the  ]iurpose  when  he  spoke  next. 

'•  You  have  some  reason,  Miss  Garth,"  he 
began,  "  to  I'eel  not  quite  satisfied  with  my 
past  con<hict  toward  you  in  one  particulai-. 
During  Mrs.  Yanstonc's  fatal  illness  you  ad- 
dressed a  letter  to  me,  making  certain  inrpii- 
ries,  which,  wiiile  she  lived,  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  answer.  Her  deplorable  deatii  re- 
leases me  from  the  restraint  which  I  had  im- 
posed on  myself,  and  permits — or,  more  ])rop- 
erl_v,  obliges  me  to  speak.  You  shall  know 
what  serious  7-easons  I  had  for  waiting  day 
and  night,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  that  inter- 
view which  unhappily  never  took  place;  and 
in  justice  to  Mr.  Yanstoue's  memory,  your 
own  eA'es  shall  inlbrm  vou  that  he  made  his 
will."  ■ 

He  rose,  unlocked  a  little  iron  safe  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  and  returned  to  the 
table  with  some  folded  sheets  of  paper,  wliich 
he  spread  open  und^-  ]\Iiss  Garth's  eyes. 
When  she  had  read  the  first  words,  ••  In  the 
name  of  God,  Amen."  he  turned  the  sheet, 
and  pointed  to  the  end  of  the  next  page.  She 
saw  the  well-known  signature,  "Andrew  ^'an- 
stone."  She  saw  the  customary  attestations  of 
the  two  witnesses,  and  the  date  of  the  docu- 
ment, reverting  to  a  period  of  more  than  five 
years  since.  Having  thus  convinced  her  of 
tiie  formality  of  the  will,  the  lawyer  interposed 
before  slie  could  question  him,  and  addressed 
her  in  these  words  : 

"  I  must  not  deceive  you,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
my  own  reasons  for  producing  this  document." 

"  What  reasons,  SirV" 

"  You  shall  hear  them.  When  you  are  in 
possession  of  the  truth,  these  pages  may  help 
to  ])reserve  your  respect  for  ^Ir.  A'anstone's 
memory — " 

Miss  Garth  started  back  in  her  chair. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked,  vith  a 
stern  straightforwardness. 

He  took  no  heed  of  the  question;  be  went 
on  as  if  she  had  not  interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  a  secoinl  reason,"  he  continued, 
"  for  showing  you  the  will.  If  I  can  prevail 
on  you  to  read  certain  clauses  in  it,  under  my 
superintendence,  you  will  make  your  own  dis- 
covery of  the  circumstances  which  I  am  here 


to  disclose — ^circumstances  so  painful  that  I 
hardly  know  how  to  communicate  them  to 
you  with  m}'  own  lips." 

Miss  Garth  looked  him  steadfastly  in  the 
face. 

"  Circumstances,  Sir,  which  affect  the  dead 
parents  or  the  living  children  V" 

•'Which  affect  the  dead  and  the  living 
both,"  answered  the  lawyer.  "  Circumstances, 
I  grieve  to  say,  which  involve  the  future  of 
Mr.  Yanstoue's  unhapi)y  daughters." 

"  Wait, '  said  Miss  Garth  —  "  wait  a  little." 
She  pushed  her  gray  hair  back  from  her  tem- 
ples, and  struggled  with  the  sickness  of  heart, 
the  dreadful  faintness  of  terror,  which  would 
have  over])owered  a  younger  or  a  less  resolute 
woman.  Her  eye^,  dim  with  watching,  weary 
Avitii  grief,  searched  the  lawyer's  unfathomable 
face.  •'  His  unhappy  daughters  ?"  she  repeated 
to  herself,  vacantly.  "  He  talks  as  if  there 
was  some  worse  <'alamity  than  the  calamity 
which  has  made  them  or]>hans."  She  paused 
once  more,  and  rallied  iier  sinking  courage. 
"  I  will  not  make  your  hard  duty,  Sir,  more 
painful  to  you  than  lean  help,"  she  resumed. 
"  Show  me  the  place  in  the  will.  Let  me 
read  it,  and  know  the  worst." 

INIr.  Pendril  turned  back  to  the  first  page, 
and  pointed  to  a  certain  place  in  the  cramped 
lines  of  writing.     '•  Begin  here,"  he  said. 

She  tried  to  begin  ;  she  tried  to  follow  his 
finger,  as  she  had  followed  it  ali-eady  to  the 
signatures  and  the  dates.  But  her  senses 
seemed  to  share  the  confusion  of  her  mind  — 
the  words  mingled  together,  and  the  lines 
swam  before  her  eyes. 

''  I  can't  follow  you,"  she  said.  "  You  must 
tell  it,  or  read  it  to  me."  She  pushed  her 
chair  back  from  the  table,  and  tried  to  col- 
lect herself.  ''  Stop  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  the 
lawyer,  with  visible  hesitation  and  reluctance, 
took  the  papers  in  his  own  hand.  "  One 
(juestion  first.  Does  his  will  provide  for  his 
children  V" 

"  His  will  provided  for  them  when  he  made 
it." 

"  When  he  made  it?"  (Something  of  her 
natural  bluntness  broke  out  in  her  manner  as 
she  repeated  the  answer.)  "  Docs  it  provide 
for  them  now  V" 

"  It  does  not." 

She  snatched  the  will  from  his  hand  and 
threw  it  into  a  corner  of  the  room.  "  You 
mean  well,"  she  said;  '-you  wish  to  spare 
me  ;  l)ut  you  are  wasting  your  time  and  my 
strength.  If  the  will  is  useless,  there  let  it 
lie.  Tell  me  the  truth.  Mr.  Pendril  —  tell  it 
plainlv,  tell  it  instantly,  in  your  own  words  I" 

He  felt  that  it  would  be  useless  cruelty  to 
resist  that  apjjcal.  There  was  no  merciful 
alternative  but  to  answer  it  on  the  spot. 

"  I  must  refer  you  to  the  spring  of  the 
present  year,  Miss  (iarth.  Do  you  remember 
the  fourth  of  March  V" 

Her  attention  wandered  again;  a  thought 
seemed   to   have   itruuk   her  at  the  moment 


46 


NO  NAME. 


when  he  spoke.  Instead  of  answering  his 
inquiry  she  put  a  question  of  her  own. 

"  Let  me  break  the  news  to  myself,"  she 
said  —  "let  me  anticipate  you,  if  lean.  His 
useless  will,  the  terms  in  which  yau  speak  of 
his  daughters,  the  doubt  you  seem  to  feel  of 
my  continued  respect  for  his  memory,  have 
opened  a  new  view  to  me.  Mr.  Vanstone  has 
died  a  ruined  man  —  is  that  what  you  had  to 
tell  me  ?" 

•'  Far  from  it.  Mr.  Vanstone  has  died  leav- 
ing a  fortune  of  more  than  eighty  thousand 
pounds  —  a  fortune  invested  in  excellent  secu- 
rities. He  lived  up  to  his  income,  but  never 
beyond  it;  and  all  liis  debts  adiled  together 
would  not  reach  two  hundred  pounds.  If  he 
had  died  a  ruined  man,  I  should  have  felt 
deeply  for  his  children — but  I  should  not  have 
hesitated  to  tell  you  the  truth,  as  I  am  hesi- 
tating now.  Let  me  repeat  a  (juestion  which 
escaped  you,  I  think,  when  I  first  put  it. 
Carry  your  mind  back  to  the  spring  of  this 
year.  Do  vou  remember  the  fourth  of 
March?" 

Miss  Garth  shook  her  liead.  "  My  memory 
for  dafcs  is  bad  at  the  best  of  times,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  too  confused  to  exert  it  at  a  moment's 
notice.  Can  you  put  your  question  in  no 
other  form  ?" 

He  put  it  in  this  form : 

"  Do  you  remember  any  domestic  event  in 
the  s[)ring  of  the  present  year  which  appeared 
to  affect  Mr.  Vanstone  more  seriously  than 
usual y" 

Miss  (Jarth  leaned  forward  in  her  chair, 
and  looked  eagerly  at  Mr.  Pendril  across 
the  table.  •'  The  journey  to  London  !"  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  distrusled  the  journey  to  Lon- 
don from  the  first !  Yes  !  I  remember  Mr. 
A'anstone  receiving  a  letter  —  I  rcmemlicr  his 
reading  it,  and  looking  so  altered  from  iiimself 
that  he  startled  us  all." 

"  Did  you  notice  any  apparent  understand- 
ing between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone  on  the 
subject  of  tiiat  letter  V" 

'•Yes,  I  did.  One  of  the  girls  — it  was 
Magdalen — mentioned  the  post-mark;  some 
place  in  America.  It  all  comes  back  to  me, 
Mr.  Pendril.  Mrs.  A^'anstone  looked  excited 
and  anxious  the  moment  she  heard  the  place 
named.  They  went  to  London  to^rether  the 
next  day;  they  explained  nothing  to  their 
daughters,  nothing  to  me.  Mrs.  Vanstone 
said  the  journey  was  for  family  aflairs.  I 
suspected  something  wi'ong ;  I  i;ouldn't  tell 
what.  ]\Irs.  Vanstone  wrote  to  me  from  Lon- 
■don,  saying  tiiat  her  object  was  to  consult  a 
physician  on  tlie  state  of  her  health,  and  not  to 
alarm  her  daugliters  by  telling  them.  Some- 
thing in  the  letter  rather  hurt  me  at  the  time. 
I  thought  there  miglit  be  some  other  motive 
that  she  was  keeping  from  me.  Did  I  do  her 
wrong  V" 

"  Y''ou  did  her  no  wrong.  There  was  a  motive 
Trhich  she  was  keeping  from  you.  In  reveal- 
ing that  motive  I  reveal  the  painful  secret 


which  brinijs  me  to  this  house.  All  that  I 
could  do  to  prepare  you  I  have  done.  Let 
me  now  tell  the  truth  in  the  plainest  and 
fewest  words.  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone 
left  Combe-Raven,  in  the  March  of  the  present 
year — " 

Before  he  could  complete  the  sentence  a 
sudden  movement  of  Miss  Garth's  interrupted 
him.  She  started  violently  and  looked  round 
toward  the  window.  •'  Only  the  wind  among 
the  leaves,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  My  nerves 
are  so  shaken  the  least  thing  startles  me. 
Speak  out,  for  God's  sake  !  When  Mr.  and 
!^lrs.  Vanstone  left  this  house  —  tell  me  in 
plain  words — why  did  they  go  to  London  ?" 

In  plain  words  Mr.  Pemlril  told  her  : 

'*  They  went  to  London  to  be  married." 

With  that  answer  he  placed  a  slip  of  paper 
on  the  table.  It  was  the  marriage  certificate 
of  the  dead  parents,  and  the  date  it  bore  was 
March  the  twentieth,  eighteen  hundred  and 
forty-six. 

Miss  Garth  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  The 
certifiL-ate  lay  beneath  her  unnoticed.  She 
sat  with  her  eyes  rooted  on  the  lawyer's  face ; 
her  mind  stunned,  her  senses  helpless.  He 
saw  that  all  his  eflforts  to  break  tlie  shock  of 
the  discovery  had  been  efforts  made  in  vain ; 
he  felt  the  vital  importance  of  rousing  her, 
and  firndy  and  distinctly  repeated  the  fatal 
words. 

"  Tiioy  went  to  London  to  be  married,"  he 
saH.  '•  Try  to  rouse  yourself:  try  to  realize 
tlie  plain  fact  first:  the  explanation  shall 
come  afterward.  Miss  Garth,  I  speiik  the 
miserable  truth  !  In  the  spring  of  this  year 
they  left  home ;  they  lived  in  London  for  a 
fortniglit,  in  the  strictest  retirement ;  they 
were  married  by  license  at  the  end  of  that 
time.  There  is  a  copy  of  the  certificate, 
which  I  mj'self  obtained  on  Monday  last. 
Read  the  date  of  the  marriage  for  yourself 
It  is  Friday,  the  twentieth  of  March  —  the 
ilarch  of  this  present  year." 

As  he  pointed  to  the  certificate  that  faint 
breath  of  air  among  the  shrubs  ])eneath  the 
window  which  had  startled  Miss  Garth  stirred 
the  leaves  once  more.  He  heard  it  him- 
self this  time,  and  turned  liis  face  so  as  to  let 
the  breeze  ])lay  upon  it.  No  breeze  came,  no 
breatli  of  air  that  was  strong  enough  for  him 
to  feel  floated  into  the  room. 

INIiss  Garth  roused  herself  mechanically  and 
read  the  certificate.  It  seemed  to  produce  no 
distinct  impression  on  her :  she  laid  it  on  one 
side  in  a  lost,  bewildered  manner.  "  Twelve 
years,"  she  said,  in  low,  hopeless  tones  — 
"  twelve  quiet  ha]jpy  years  I  lived  with  this 
family.  Mrs.  Vanstone  was  my  friend  ;  my 
dear,  valued  friend — my  sister,  I  might  almost 
say.  I  can't  believe  it.  Bear  with  me  a  little, 
Sir  ;  I  can't  believe  it  yet." 

"  I  shall  help  you  to  believe  it  when  I  tell 
you  more,"  said  Mr.  Pendril  —  "you  will  un-„ 
derstand  me  better  when  I  take  you  back  to 
the  time  of  Mr,  Vanstone's  early  life.    I  won't 


NO  NAME. 


47 


a?k  for  your  attention  just  yet.  Let  us  wait  a 
littk'  until  you  recover  yourself." 

Tlu'y  waited  a  few  minutes.  The  lawyer 
took  some  letters  from  his  poeket,  referred  to 
them  attentively,  and  put  them  back  again. 
"  Can  you  listen  to  mo  now '?"  he  asked, 
kindly.^  She  bowed  her  head  in  answer.  Mr. 
Pendril  considered  with  himself  tor  a  moment. 
"  I  must  eaution  j'ou  on  one  point,"  he  said. 
"  If  tlie  aspect  of  ilr.  A^anstone's  ehai-acter 
IL  whirli  I  am  now  about  to  present  to  you  seems 
in  some  respects  at  variance  with  your  later 
experience,  bear  in  mind  that  when  you  first 
knew  liim  twelve  years  since  he  was  a  man  of 
forty,  and  that  when  I  first  knew  him  he  was 
a Ind  of  nineteen." 

Ilis  next  words  raised  the  veil,  and  showed 
the  irrevocable  Past. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  The  fortune  which  Mr.  Vanstone  possessed 
when  you  knew  him"  (the  lawyer  began) 
"  was  part,  and  part  only,  of  the  inheritance 
which  fell  to  him  on  his  father's  deatli.  INIr. 
A'anstone  the  elder  was  a  manufacturer  in  the 
north  of  England.  lie  married  early  in  life: 
and  the  children  of  the  marriage  were  either 
six  or  seven  iu  number  —  I  am  not  certain 
wliiih.  First,  Michael,  the  eldest  son,  still 
living,  and  now  an  old  man  turned  seventy. 
Secondly.  Selina,  the  eldest  dauirhtcr,  who 
married  in  after-life,  and  who  died  ten  or 
eleven  years  ago.  After  those  two  came  other 
sons  and  daughters  whose  early  deaths  make 
it  unnecessary  to  mention  them  particularly. 
The  last,  and  V)y  many  years  the  youngest  of 
the  children,  was  Andrew,  whom  I  first  knew, 
as  I  told  you.  at  the  age  of  nineteen.  My 
father  was  then  on  the  jioint  of  retiring  from 
the  active  pursuit  of  his  profession,  and  in  suc- 
ceeding to  his  business  I  also  succeeded  t6  his 
connection  ^vith  the  Yanstones  as  the  family 
solicitor. 

"  At  that  time  Andrew  had  just  started  in 
life  by  entering  the  army.  After  little  more 
than  a  year  of  home-service  he  was  ordered 
out  with  his  regiment  to  Canada.  When  he 
quitted  Kn.danil  he  left  his  father  and  his  elder 
brother  Miehael  .seriously  at  variance.  I  need 
not  detain  you  by  enterinfj  into  the  cause  of 
the  quarrel.  I  need  only  tell  you  that  the 
ehler  Mr.  Vanstone,  witlt  many  excellent 
qualities,  was  a  man  of  fierce  and  intractable 
temper.  His  eldest  son  had  set  him  at  defi- 
ance, under  circumstances  wliich  might  have 
justly  irritated  a  father  of  far  milder  charac- 
ter:  anil  he  declared  in  tin-  most  positive  terms 
tliat  he  would  never  see  Michael'!*  face  again. 
In  defiance  of  my  entreaties  and  of  the  en- 
treaties of"  his  wife  he  tore  up.  in  our  presence, 
the  will  which  provided  for  Micha-'l's  share  in 
the  paternal  inheritance.    Such  was  the  family 


position  when  the  younger  son  left  home  for 
Canada. 

"  Some  months  after  Andrew's  arrival  with 
his  regiment  at  Quebec  he  became  acquainted 
with  a  woman  of  great  personal  attractions, 
who  came,  or  said  she  came,  from  one  of  the 
Southern  States  of  America.  She  obtained 
an  immediate  influence  ov(>r  him,  and  she  used 
it  to  the  basest  purpose.  You  knew  the  easy, 
afTcctionate,  trusting  nature  of  the  man  in 
later  life — you  can  imagine  how  thouirhtlesslv 
he  acted  on  the  impulses  of  his  youth.  It  is 
useless  to  dwell  on  this  lamentable  part  of  the 
story.  He  was  just  twentj'-one  :  he  was  blindly 
devoted  to  a  worthless  woman  ;  and  she  led 
him  on  with  merciless  cunning,  till  it  was  too 
late  to  draw  bai-k.  In  one  word,  he  committed 
the  fatal  error  of  his  life — he  married  her. 

"  She  had  been  wise  enough  in  her  own  in- 
terests to  dread  the  influence  of  his  brother 
officers,  and  to  persuade  him,  up  to  the  jieriod 
of  the  marriage  ceremony,  to  keep  the  pro- 
posed union  between  them  a  secret.  She 
could  do  this,  but  she  could  not  provide  against 
the  results  of  accident.  Hardly  three  months 
liad  passed  when  a  chance  disclosure  expo.sed 
the  life  slie  had  led  before  her  marriage.  But 
one  alternative  was  left  to  her  husband  —  the 
alternative  of  instantly  separating  from  her. 

"  The  eflect  of  the  discovery  on  the  unhappy 
boy — tor  a  boy  in  disposition  he  still  was — may 
be  judged  by  the  event  which  followed  the  ex- 
posure. One  of  Andrew's  superior  officers 
found  him  in  his  quarters  writing  to  his  father 
a  confession  of  the  disgraeeful  truth  with  a 
loaded  pistol  by  his  side.  That  officer  saved 
the  lad's  life  from  his  own  hand,  and  hushed 
up  the  scandalous  affair  by  a  compromise.  The 
marriage  being  a  perfectly  legal  one.  and  the 
wife's  misconduct  prior  to  the  ceremony  giving 
her  hu.sband  no  claim  to  his  relea.se  from  her 
by  divorce,  it  was  only  possible  to  appeal  to 
her  sense  of  her  own  interests.  A  handsome 
annual  allowance  was  secured  to  her  on  con- 
dition that  she  returned  to  the  place  from 
which  she  had  come,  that  she  never  appeared 
in  Englaiul,  and  that  she  ceased  to  use  her 
husband's  name.  Other  stipulations  were 
added  to  these.  She  acc^-pted  them  all,  and 
I  measures  were  privately  taken  to  have  her 
well  looked  after  in  the  place  of  her  retreat. 
What  life  she  led  then;,  and  wliether  she  per- 
formed all  the  conililions  imposed  on  her,  I 
cannot  say.  I  can  only  tell  you  that  she  never, 
to  my  knowledge,  came  to  England  ;  that  she 
never  annoyed  Mr.  Van.'stone ;  and  that  the 
annual  allowance  was  paid  her,  through  a  local 
a^ent  in  America,  to  the  day  of  her  death. 
All  that  she  wanted  in  raarryinjj  him  was 
money,  and  moni-y  ^he  got. 

"  In  the  meantime  Andn-w  hail  left  the  reg- 
I  inient.     Nothing    would    induce    him    to  face 
I  his  brother  officer.*  aCUT  what  lutd  happened. 
He  sold  out  and  returned  to  England.     The 
first  intelligence  wliich  reached  hmi  on  his  re- 
turn was  the  intelligence  of  hu  father's  death. 


48 


NO  NAME. 


He  came  to  my  office  in  London  before  going 
home,  and  there  learned  from  my  lips  how  the 
family  quarrel  had  ended. 

"The  -will  which  Mr.  Vanstone  the  elder 
had  destroyed  in  my  presence  had  not  been,  so 
far  as  I  knew,  replaced  by  another.  When  I 
was  sent  for,  in  the  usual  course,  on  his  death, 
I  fully  expected  that  the  law  would  be  left  to 
make  the  customary  division  among  his  widow 
and  his  children.  To  my  surjirise  a  will  ap- 
peared among  his  papers,  correctly  drawn  and 
executed,  and  dated  about  a  week  after  the 
period  when  the  first  will  had  been  destroyed. 
He  had  maintained  his  vindictiye  purpose 
against  his  eldest  son,  and  had  applied  to  a 
stranger  for  the  professional  assistance  which 
I  honestly  believe  he  was  ashamed  to  ask  for 
at  my  hands. 

"  It  is  needless  to  trouble  you  with  the  pro- 
visions of  the  will  in  detail.  There  were  the 
widow  and  three  surviving  children  to  be  pro- 
vided ibr.  The  widow  received  a  life-interest 
only  in  a  portion  of  the  testator's  property. 
The  remaining  portion  was  divided  between 
Andrew  and  Selina — two-thirds  to  the  brother, 
one-third  to  the  sister.  On  the  mother's  death, 
the  money  from  which  her  income  had  been 
derived  was  to  go  to  Andrew  and  Selina,  in 
the  same  relative  proportions  as  before  —  five 
thousand  pounds  having  been  first  deducted 
from  the  sum  and  paid  to  Michael  as  the  sole 
legacy  lelt  by  the  implacable  father  to  his  eld- 
est son. 

•'  Speaking  in  round  numbers,  the  division 
of  property,  as  settled  by  the  will,  stood  thus : 
Before  the  mother's  death  Andrew  had  seventy 
thousand  pounds  ;  Selina  had  thirty-five  thou- 
sand pounds;  Michael  had  nothing.  After  the 
mother's  death  Michael  had  five  thousand 
pounds,  to  set  against  Andrew's  inheritance 
augmented  to  one  hundred  thousand,  and  Se- 
lina's  inheritance  increased  to  fifty  thousand. 
Do  not  suppose  that  I  am  dwelling  unnecessa- 
rily on  this  part  of  the  subject.  Every  word 
I  now  speak  bears  on  interests  still  in  suspense, 
which  vitally  concern  Mr.  Vanstone's  daugh- 
ters. As  we  get  on  from  past  to  present,  keep 
in  mind  the  terrible  ine({uality  of  Michael's 
inheritance  and  Andrew's  inheritance.  The 
harm  done  by  that  vindictive  will  is,  I  greatly 
fear,  not  over  yet. 

"  Andrew's  first  impulse,  when  he  heard 
the  news  which  I  had  to  tell  him,  was  worthy 
of  the  open,  generous  nature  ot'  the  man.  He 
at  once  proposed  to  divide  his  inheritance  with 
his  elder  brother.  But  there  was  one  serious 
obstacle  in  the  way.  A  letter  from  Michael 
was  waiting  for  him  at  my  office  when  he 
came  there,  and  that  letter  charged  him  with 
being  the  original  cause  of  estrangement  be- 
tween his  father  and  his  elder  brother.  The 
efforts  wiiich  he  had  made  —  bluntly  and  in- 
cautiously I  own,  but  with  the  purest  and 
kindest  intentions,  as  I  know — to  compose  the 
(juarrel  before  leaving  home,  were  perverted 
by  the  vilest  misconstruction  to  support  an  ac- 


cusation of  treachery  and  falsehood  which 
would  have  stung  any  man  to  the  quick.  An- 
drew felt,  what  I  felt,  that  if  these  imputa- 
tions were  not  withdrawn  before  his  generous 
intentions  toward  his  brother  took  eifect  the 
mere  fact  of  their  execution  would  amount  to 
a  practical  acknowledgment  of  the  justice  of 
Michael's  charge  against  him.  He  wrote  to 
his  brother  in  the  most  forbearing  terms.  The 
answer  received  was  as  offensive  as  words 
could  make  it.  Michael  had  inherited  his 
father's  temper,  unredeemed  by  his  father's 
better  qualities  :  his  second  letter  reiterated 
the  charges  contained  in  the  first,  and  de- 
clared that  he  Avould  only  accept  the  offered 
division  as  an  act  of  atonement  and  restitu- 
tion on  Andrew's  part.  I  next  wrote  to  the 
mother  to  use  her  influence.  She  was  herself 
aggrieved  at  being  left  with  nothing  more 
than  a  life-interest  in  her  husband's  property ; 
she  sided  resolutely  with  Michael ;  and  she 
stigmatized  Andrew's  proposal  as  an  attempt 
to  bribe  her  eldest  sou  into  withdrawing  a 
charge  against  his  brother,  which  that  brother 
knew  to  be  true.  After  this  last  repulse  noth- 
ing more  could  be  done.  Michael  withdrew 
to  the  Continent,  and  his  mother  followed  him 
there.  She  lived  long  enough,  and  saved 
money  enough  out  of  her  income  to  add  con- 
siderably at  her  death  to  her  elder  son's  five 
thousand  pounds.  He  had  previously  still 
further  improved  his  pecuniary  position  by 
an  advantageous  marriage ;  and  he  is  now 
passing  the  close  of  his  days  either  in  France 
or  Switzerland  —  a  Avidower  with  one  son. 
We  shall  return  to  him  shortly.  In  the  mean- 
time I  need  only  tell  you  that  Andrew  and 
Michael  never  again  met  —  never  again  com- 
municated even  by  writing.  To  all  intents 
and  purposes  they  were  dead  to  each  other 
from  those  early  days  to  the  present  time. 

"  You  can  now  estimate  what  Andrew's  po- 
sition was  when  he  left  his  profession  and 
returned  to  England.  Possessed  of  a  fortune, 
he  was  alone  in  the  world ;  his  future  de- 
stroyed at  the  fair  outset  of  life ;  his  mother 
and  brother  estranged  from  him  ;  his  sister 
lately  married,  with  interests  and  hopes  in 
which  he  had  no  share.  Men  of  firmer  mental 
calibre  might  have  found  refuge  from  sUch  a 
situation  as  this  in  an  absorbing  intellectual 
pursuit.  He  was  not  capable  of  the  effort ; 
all  the  strength  of  his  character  lay  in  the 
affections  he  had  wasted.  His  place  in  the 
world  was  that  quiet  place  at  home,  with  wife 
and  children  to  make  his  life  happy,  which  he 
had  lost  for  ever.  To  look  back  was  more  than 
he  dare.  To  look  forward  was  more  than  he 
could.  In  sheer  despair  he  let  his  own  im- 
petuous youth  drive  him  on,  and  cast  him- 
self into  the  lowest  dissipations  of  a  London  life. 

"  A  woman's  falsehood  had  driven  him  to 
his  ruin.  A  woman's  love  saved  him  at  the 
outset  of  his  downward  career.  Let  us  not 
speak  of  her  harshly  —  for  we  laid  her  witli 
him  yesterday  in  the  grave. 


NO  NAME. 


49 


"  Tou,  who  only  kneir  Mrs.  Vanstone  in 
later  life,  when  illness,  and  sorroAV,  and  secret 
care  had  altered  and  saddened  her,  can  lorm 
no  adequate  idea  of  her  attractions  of  person 
and  character  when  she  was  a  girl  of  seven- 
teen. I  was  with  Andrew  when  he  first  met 
her.  I  had  tried  to  rescue  him,  for  one  night 
at  least,  from  degrading  associates  and  de- 
grading pleasures  by  persuading  him  to  go 
with  me  to  a  ball  given  by  one  of  the  great 
City  Companies.  There  they  met.  She  pro- 
duced a  strong  impression  on  liim  the  moment 
he  saw  her.  To  me,  as  to  him.  she  was  a  total 
Stranger.  An  introduction  to  her,  obtained  in 
the  customary  manner,  informed  liim  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  or.e  ]\Ir.  Bl.ike.  The  rest 
he  discovered  from  herself  They  were  part- 
ners in  the  dance  (unobserved  in  that  crowded 
ball-room)  all  through  the  evening. 

"  Circumstances  were  against  her  from  the 
first.  She  was  unliappy  at  home.  Her  family 
and  frien<ls  oi'cuj)ied  no  recognized  station  in 
life:  tliey  were  mean,  underliand  ]>eopIe.  in 
every  way  unworthy  of  her.  It  was  her  first 
ball — it  was  the  first  time  /lie  had  ever  met 
with  a  man  who  had  the  breeding,  the  man- 
ners, and  the  conversation  of  a  gentleman. 
Are  these  excuses  for  her  which  I  have  no 
right  to  make  ?  If  we  have  any  human  feel- 
ing for  human  weakness,  surely  not ! 

"  The  meeting  of  that  night  decided  their 
future.  When  other  meetings  had  followed, 
when  the  confession  of  her  love  had  escaped 
her,  lie  took  the  one  course  of  all  otiiers  (took 
it  innocently  and  unconsciously)  which  was 
most  dangerous  to  them  both.  His  frankne.-<8 
and  bis  sense  of  honor  forbade  him  to  deceive 
her :  he  o])ened  his  heart  and  told  her  the 
truth.  She  was  a  generous,  impulsive  girl ; 
she  had  no  home-lies  strong  enough  to  ]>lead 
with  her ;  she  was  passionately  ibnd  of  him — 
and  he  bad  made  that  appeal  to  her  pity, 
which,  to  the  eternal  honor  of  women,  is  tin; 
hardest  of  all  appeals  for  them  to  resist.  She 
saw,  and  saw  truly,  that  she  alone  stood  be- 
tween him  and  his  ruin.  The  last  chance  of 
his  rescue  iinng  on  her  decision.  She  decided, 
and  saved  him. 

"  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood ;  let  me  not 
bo  accused  of  trifling  with  the  serious  social 
question  on  v.hiih  my  narrative  forces  me  to 
touch.  I  will  defend  her  UKrmory  by  no  false 
reasoning  —  I  will  only  speak  the  truth.  It  is 
the  trutli  that  slu^  snatched  him  from  mad  ex- 
cesses which  nuist  have  ended  in  his  early 
death.  It  is  the  trutli  that  she  restored  him 
to  that  happy  home-existt'iice  wliich  you  re- 
member so  tenderly — wiiich  he  remembered  so 
gratefully  that,  on  the  day  when  he  was  free, 
he  made  her  his  wife.  Let  strict  morality 
••laim  its  right,  and  condenm  her  early  fault. 
I  have  read  my  New  Testament  to  little  pur- 
pose indeed  if  Christian  mercy  may  not  soften 
the  hard  sentence  against  her  —  if  ChrLstian 
charity  may  not  find  a  plea  for  ber  memory  in 
7 


the  love  and  fidelity,  the  suffering  and  the 
sacrifice,  of  her  whole  life. 

"A  few  words  more  will  bring  us  to  a  later 
time,  and  to  events  which  have  happened  with- 
in your  own  experien.^e. 

'^  I  need  not  remind  you  that  the  position  in 
which  ;Mr.  Vanstone  was  now  placed  could 
lead  in  the  end  to  but  one  result  — to  a  dis- 
closure, more  or  less  inevitable,  of  the  truth. 
Attempts  were  made  to  keep  the  hopeless 
misfortune  of  his  life  a  secret  from  Miss 
Blake's  family ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  conrse, 
thos('  attempts  failed  before  the  relentless 
scrutiny  of  her  father  and  her  friends.  What 
might  liave  happened  if  her  relatives  had  been 
what  is  termed  'respectable,'  I  can  not  pre- 
tend to  say.  As  it  was,  they  were  people  wlio 
could  (in  the  common  jihrase)  be  conveniently 
treated  with.  The  only  survivor  of  the  family 
at  the  present  time  is  a  scoundrel  calling  him- 
self Captain  Wragge.  When  I  tell  you  that 
he  privately  extorted  the  price  of  his  silence 
frou)  Mrs.  Vanstone  to  the  last;  and  when  I 
add  that  his  conduct  presents  no  extraordinary 
ext^eption  to  the  conduct,  in  their  lifetime,  of 
the  other  relatives,  you  will  understand  what 
sort  of  people  I  had  to  deal  witli  in  my  client's 
interests,  and  how  their  assumed  indignation 
was  appeased. 

"  Having,  in  the  first  instance,  left  England 
for  Ireland,  Mr.  Vanstone  and  Miss  Blake  re- 
mained there  aflerward  for  some  vears.  (Jirl 
as  she  was,  she  faced  lier  position  and  its 
necessities  without  flinching.  Having  once 
resolved  to  sacrifice  her  life  to  the  man  she 
loved:  having  (juieted  her  conscience  by  per- 
suading ht'rself  tha,t  his  marriage  was  a  legal 
mockery,  and  that  she  was  '  his  wife  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven,'  she  set  herself  from  the  firet 
to  accomplish  the  one  foremost  jmrpose  of  so 
living  with  him,  in  the  world's  eye,  as  never  to 
raise  the  suspicion  that  she  was  not  his  lawful 
wife.  T!ie  women  are  few  indeed  Who  can 
not  resolve  firmly,  scheme  patienMy,  and  act 
promptly,  where  the  d;'arest  interests  of  their 
lives  are  concerned.  ]\Irs.  Vanstone — she  has 
a  right  now.  remember,  to  that  name  —  Mrs, 
"Vanstone  had  more  than  the  average  share  of 
a  woman's  tenacity  and  a  woman's  tact;  and 
she  took  all  the  needful  precautions,  in  those 
early  days,  wlii<-h  her  husband's  less  ready 
capacity  had  not  the  art  to  devise  —  precau- 
tions to  which  they  were  largely  indebted  for 
the  preservation  of  their  secret  in  later  times. 

"Thanks  to  these  safeguards,  not  a  shadow 
of  suspicion  followed  them  when  they  returned 
to  England.  They  first  settled  in  Devon- 
shire, merely  because  tht'y  were  far  removed 
there  from  that  northern  county  in  which  Mr. 
Vanstone's  family  ami  connections  had  been 
known.  On  the  part  of  his  surviving  relatives 
thev  had  no  c\n-ious  investigations  to  dread. 
He  was  totally  estranged  from  his  mother  and 
his  elder  brother.  His  married  sister  had 
been  forbidden  by  ber  husband  (who  was  a 


50 


NO  NAME. 


clergyman)  to  hold  any  communifation  with 
him  from  the  period  when  he  had  fallen  into 
the  deplorable  -way  of  life  which  I  have  de- 
scribed as  following  his  return  from  Canada. 
Other  relations  he  had  none.  When  he  and 
Miss  Blake  left  Devonshire  their  next  change 
of  residence  was  to  this  house.  Neither  court- 
iog  iior  avoiding  notice ;  simply  happy  in 
themselves,  in  their  cbihlren,  and  in  their  ijuiet 
rural  life  ;  unsuspected  by  the  few  ncighljors 
who  formed  their  modest  circle  of  acfpiaint- 
anse  to  be  other  than  what  they  scnied — the 
truth,  in  their  case,  ?s  in  the  cases  of  many 
others,  remained  undiscovered  until  accident 
forced  it  into  ttie  light  of  day. 

'■  If  in  your  close  intimac.'v  with  them  it 
seems  sirauge  that  they  should  never  have  be- 
trayed themselves,  let  me  ask  you  to  ronsider 
the  ciicumstauces,  and  you  will  understand 
the  apparent  anomaly.  Remember  that  they 
had  been  living  as  husband  and  wife,  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  (except  that  the  marriage 
service  had  not  been  read  over  ttiem),  for 
fifteen  years  before  you  came  into  tlie  house  ; 
and  bear  in  mind,  at  the  same  time,  that  no 
event  occurred  to  disturb  Mr.  Vanstone's  hap- 
piness in  the  present,  to  remind  him  of  the 
past,  or  to  warn  him  of  the  future,  until  the 
announcement  of  his  wife's  death  reached 
him,  in  that  letter  from  America  wlii.-h  you 
saw  placed  in  his  hand.  From  that  day  forth 
— when  a  past  which  he  abhorred  was  forced 
back  to  his  memory ;  when  a  future  wliich  she. 
had  never  dared  to  anticipate  was  placed 
within  her  reach  —  you  will  soon  perceive,  if 
you  have  not  perceived  already,  that  they  both 
betrayed  themselves  time  after  time ;  and  that 
vour  innocence  of  all  suspicion,  and  their  chil- 
dren's innocence  of  all  suspicion,  alone  pre- 
vented you  from  discovering  the  truth. 

*'  The  sad  story  of  the  past  is  now  as  well 
known  to  you  as  to  me.  I  have  had  hard 
words  to  speak.  God  knows  I  have  spoken 
them  with  true  sympathy  for  the  living,  with 
true  tenderness  for  the  memory  of  the  dead." 

lie  paused,  turned  his  face  a  little  away,  and 
rested  his  head  on  his  hand  in  the  (juiet,  unde- 
monstrative manner  which  was  natural  to  him. 
Thus  fiir  Miss  Garth  had  only  interrujjted  his 
narrative  by  an  occasional  Avord  or  by  a  nmte 
token  of  her  attention.  She  made  no  effort 
to  conceal  her  tears ;  they  fell  fast  and  silently 
over  her  wasted  cheeks  as  she  looked  up  and 
spoke  to  him.  "  I  have  done  you  some  injury. 
Sir,  in  my  thoughts,"  she  said,  with  a  noble 
simplicity.  "I  know  you  better  now.  Let 
m(!  ask  your  forgiveness ;  let  me  take  your 
hand." 

Those  words  and  the  action  which  accom- 

f)anied  them  touched  him  deeply.  He  took  her 
land  in  silence.  She  was  the  first  to  speak, 
the  first  to  set  the  example  of  self-control.  It 
is  one  of  the  noble  instincts  of  women  that 
nothing  more  powerfully  rouses  them  to  strug- 
gle with  their  own  sorrow  than  the  sight  of  a 


man's  distress.  She  quietly  dried  her  tears ; 
she  quietly  drew  her  chair  round  the  table  so 
as  to  sit  nearer  to  him  when  she  spoke  again. 

"  I  have  been  sadly  broken,  Mr.  Pendril,  by 
what  has  happened  in  this  house,"  she  said, 
'•  or  I  sliould  have  borne  what  you  have  told 
me  better  than  I  have  borne  it  to-day.  "VViU 
vou  let  me  ask  one  question  before  you  go  on  ? 
M}-  heart  aclies  for  the  children  of  my  love  — 
nioi'c  tlian  ever  my  children  now.  Is  there  no 
hope  for  their  future  ?  Are  they  left  with  no 
prospect  but  poverty  before  them  ?" 

The  lawyer  hesitated  before  he  answered 
the  question. 

»•  They  are  left  dependent,"  he  said,  at  last, 
•'  on  the  justice  and  the  mercy  of  a  stranger." 

"  Through  the  misfortune  of  their  birth  ?" 

"  Through  the  misfortunes  wliich  have  fol- 
lowed the  marriage  of  their  parents." 

Witii  that  startling  answer  he  rose,  took  up 
the  will  from  the  fioor,  and  restored  it  to  itu 
former  position  on  the  table  between  them. 

••  I  can  only  jjlace  the  truth  before  you,"  he 
resumed,  "  in  one  plain  form  of  words.  The 
marriage  has  destroyed  this  will,  and  has  left 
]Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  dependent  on  their 
uncle." 

As  he  spoke  the  breeze  stirred  again  among 
the  shrubs  under  the  window. 

"  On  their  uncle  ?"  repeated  Miss  Garth- 
She  considered  for  a  moment,  and  laid  her 
hand  suddenly  on  Mr.  Fendi-il's  arm.  "  Not 
on  Michael  Vanstone !" 

"  Yes :  on  Michael  Vanstone." 

Miss  Garth's  hands  still  mechanically  grasped 
the  lawyer's  arm.  Her  whole  mind  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  elfort  to  realize  the  discovery 
which  had  now  burst  on  her. 

"  Dependent  on  Michael  Vanstone !"  she 
said  to  herself.  "•  Dependent  on  their  father's 
bitterest  enemy  !     How  can  it  be  '?  " 

"•  Give  me  your  attention  for  a  few  minutes 
more,"  said  Mr.  Pendril,  "  and  you  shall  hear. 
The  sooner  we  can  bring  this  painful  inter- 
view to  a  close  the  sooner  I  can  open  commu- 
nications with  Mr.  ]\Iichael  Vanstone,  and  the 
sooner  you  will  know  what  he  decides  on  doing 
for  his  brother's  orphan  daughters.  I  repeat 
to  you  that  they  are  absolutely  dependent  on 
him.  You  will  most  readily  understand  how 
and  why,  if  we  take  up  the  chain  of  events 
where  we  last  left  it  —  at  the  period  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Vanstone's  marriage." 

"  One  moment,  Sir,"  said  Miss  Garth. 
"  Were  you  in  the  secret  of  that  marriage  at 
the  time  when  it  took  place  '?" 

"  Unhappily  I  was  not.  I  was  away  from 
London — away  from  England  at  the  time.  If 
IMr.  Vanstone  had  been  able  to  communicate 
with  me  when  the  letter  from  America  an- 
nounced the  death  of  his  wife,  the  fortunes  of 
his  daughters  would  not  have  been  now  at 
stake." 

He  paused,  and,  before  proceeding  further, 
looked  once  more  at  the  letters  which  he  had 
consulted  at  an  earlier  period  of  the  interview. 


NO  NAME. 


5i 


He  took  one  letter  from  tbe  rest,  and  put  it  on 
the  table  by  bis  side. 

"  At  the  begiuninjr  of  the  present  year,"  he 
resumed,  "a  very  serious  business  necessity,  in 
connection  Avitli  some  West  Indian  property 
possessed  iiy  an  old  client  and  friend  of  mine, 
required  thi^  presence  cither  of  myself  or  of 
one  of  my  two  ])artners  in  Jamaica.  One  of 
the  two  could  not  be  s])ared  ;  the  other  was 
not  in  health  to  undertake  the  voyage.  There 
was  no  choice  left  but  tor  me  to  go.  T  wj'ote 
to  Mr.  Vanstone.  telling  him  that  I  should 
leave  England  at  the  end  of  February,  and 
that  the  nature  of  the  business  which  took  me 
away  aO'orded  little  ho]>e  of  my  getting  back 
from  the  West  Indies  before  June.  My  letter 
was  not  written  with  any  s))ecial  motive.  I 
merely  thought  it  right — seeing  that  my  ])art- 
ners  were  not  admitted  to  my  knowledge  of 
Mr.  Yanstone's  private  alTairs  —  to  warn  him 
of  my  absi-nce,  as  a  measure  of  formal  pre- 
caution which  it  was  right  to  take.  At  the 
end  ol'  February  I  left  England,  without  hav- 
ing heard  from  him.  I  was  on  tlie  sea  when 
the  news  of  his  wife's  deatli  rea(dieii  him,  on 
the  4th  of  jNIarch.  and  I  did  not  return  until 
the  middle  of  last  June." 

'•  You  warned  him  of  your  de])arture,"  in- 
terposed Miss  (iarth.  "  JJid  you  not  warn 
him  of  your  return  V" 

''  Not  personally.  My  head  clerk  sent  him 
one  of  the  circulars  which  were  dispatched 
from  my  office  in  various  directions,  to  an- 
nounce m}'  retiirn.  It  was  the  first  substitute 
I  thought  of  for  the  personal  letter  which 
th(!  pressure  of  innumerable  occupations,  all 
crowding  on  me  together  after  my  long  ab- 
sence, did  not  allow  me  leisure  to  write. 
Barely  a  month  later  the  first  information  ol' 
his  marriage  reac  hcd  me  in  a  letter  from  him- 
self, written  on  the  day  of  the  fatal  accident. 
The  oircumstances  which  induced  him  to  write 
arose  out  of  an  event  in  whirh  yo)i  nmst  have 
taken  .some  interest  —  I  mean  the  attachment 
between  ISlr.  Clare's  son  and  Mr.  Yanstone's 
youngest  daughter.' 

"  I  can  not,  .say  tliat  I  v»'as  favorably  dis- 
posed toward  that  attachment  at  the  time," 
replied  Miss  (Jarlh.  "I  was  igiu)rantthen  of 
the  family  secret :  I  know  bi-tter  now." 

"  Exactly.  The  motive  which  y(»u  can  now 
appreciate  is  the  motive,  that  leads  us  to  the 
point.  The  youug  lady  herself  (as  I  have 
heard  from  the  elder  Mr.  Clare,  to  whom  I 
am  indebted  lor  my  knowledge  of  the  ciremn- 
stances  in  detail)  confessed  her  attachment  to 
her  father,  and  innocently  touched  him  to  the 
(luick  by  a  chance  reference  to  his  own  early 
life,  lie  had  a  lung  conversation  with  Mrs. 
Vanstone,  at  whi -h  they  both  agreed  that 
Mr.  Clare  must  be  ])rivafely  inlonued  of  the 
truth,  before  the  attachmiMit  between  the  two 
young  people  M-as  allowed  to  proceed  further. 
It  was  painful  in  the  list  di-gree,  both  to  hus- 
band and  wife,  to  be  reduced  to  this  alter- 
oative.      But    they    were   resolute,   honorably 


resolute,  in  making  the  sacrifice  of  their  o'wn 
feelings ;  and  ^Ir.  Vanstone  betook  himself 
on  the  spot  to  iNIr.  Clare's  cottage.  Y^ou  no 
doubt  observed  a  remarkable  change  in  Mr. 
Yanstone's  manner  on  that  day ;  and  you  can 
now  account  for  it '.'" 

Miss  Gartli  boweil  her  head,  and  ^Ir.  Pen- 
dril  went  on. 

"  Y'ou  are  sufficiently  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Clare's  contempt  for  all  social  prejudices,"'  he 
continued,  '•  to  anticijiate  his  reception  of  the 
confession  which  his  neighbor  addressed  to 
him.  Five  minutes  after  the  interview  had 
begun  the  two  old  friends  Avere  as  easy  and 
unrestrained  together  as  usual.  In  the  course 
of  conversation  Mr.  Vanstone  mentioned  the 
pecuniary  arrangement  which  he  had  made 
f'or  the  benefit  of  his  daughter  and  of  her 
future  husband,  and  in  doing  so  he  naturally 
referred  to  this  will  here  on  the  table  between 
us.  IMr.  Clare,  remembering  that  his  friend 
had  been  married  in  the  March, of  that  year, 
at  once  asked  when  tlie  will  had  been  exe- 
cuted ;  received  the  re[)ly  that  it  had  been 
made  five  years  since,  and  thereupon  as- 
fouaded  Mr.  Yanstone  by  tt  lling  him  bluntly 
that  the  docnnient  was  -waste  paper  in  the 
eye  of  the  law.  Up  to  that  moment  he,  like 
many  other  persons,  had  been  absolutely  igno- 
rant that  a  man's  marriage  is,  legally  as  well 
as  socially,  considered  to  be  the  most  impor- 
tant event  in  his  life;  that  it  destroys  the 
validity  of  any  will  which  he  may  have  made 
as  a  single  man  ;  and  that  it  renders  abso- 
lutely necessary  the  entire  reassertion  of  his 
testamentary  intentions  in  the  cliaracter  of  a 
husband.  The  statement  of  this  plain  fact 
appeared  to  overwhelm  Mr.  Yanstone.  De- 
claring that  his  friend  had  laid  him  imder  an 
obligation  which  he  should  remember  to  Lis 
dying  day,  he  at  once  left  the  cottage,  at  once 
returned  home  and  wrote  me  this  letter." 

1  le  handed  the  letter  open  to  Miss  Garth. 
In  fearless,  speechless  grief  she  read  these 
words : 

'•  .Mt  dear  rr.xDHiL — Since  wc  Inst  wrote  tn  cadi  othor 
an  extraovdiuar.v  rli.inge  lias  taken  place  in  my  life.  Alionf 
a  Week  iifler  .voii  went  away  I  reccivei  news  from  Amerira 
which  told  liie  that  I  wis  free.  Neeii  I  say  Mliat  use  I 
made  of  that  freedom  ?  Need  1  say  that  tbe  mother  of  my 
children  is  now  my  Vi'lte  ? 

•■  If  you  are  suiprihed  at  n'lt  havinjj  heard  from  me  th* 
moment  yoti  Rot  hack,  nttrihule  my  silence  in  great  part — 
if  not  altogeilu;:-  —  to  my  own  t.itul  ign  ■trtnce  of  the  legal 
rece.tsity  for  makin:iani'><h«r  will.  Not  half  «n  hour  oince 
]  was  onliphtoned  for  the  fir.'l  lime  (under  cirrnmgtu.nres 
which  I  will  mention  when  w«  meet^  by  my  old  friend.  >Ir. 
Clare.  Fiimily  anxieties  have  hB<l  oomelhiDg  to  do  with 
mv  8ilen-e  as  well.  My  wife's  confinemeiit  is  dope  at 
■  hand;  and  besides  tiiis  Bcrions  anxiety,  my  second  dn\igli- 
ter  is  jnst  engapeil  to  bo  married.  L'ntil  I  »aw  .Mr.  (^hire 
to-d'iy.  Mice  matters  »•>  lilleil  my  mind  thai  1  never 
thouKlit  of  writinif  to  yun  chiring  the  one  sliort  m  inth 
which  is  all  that  has  passed  since  I  got  newsof  yonr  retiirn. 
Now  I  know  I  hat  my  will  mnsf  be  made  again.  I  wiiee 
instantly.  ¥<'•''  <ind's  sake,  come  on  tie  day  when  \  ii  re- 
ceive this — come  and  reiieve  me  from  the  drcaiifnl  tJioiight 
thtl  mv  twodaillni;  ^irls  are  at  this  moniont  nnpruvided 
for.  If  a-.ivthiMg  happened  ti>  me  and  ;f  niy  ('cs're  to  do 
tlieir  mother  jn»tice  ended  (throujrh  my  misenblo  ipoo- 
ranee  of  the  Uw)  In  leaving  N'(>rah  and  Magdalen  d!»in- 
hnrited.  I  should  not  reft  in  my  gravel  CoDiC.al  any  co«t, 
to  youm  ever,  A.  V." 


52 


NO  NAME. 


"  On  the  Saturday  mornin>ir,"  Mr.  Pi-ndril 
resumed,  "  tho?e  linos  reached  me.  I  instantly 
set  aside  all  other  business  and  drove  to  the 
railway.  At  the  London  terminus  I  heard 
the  first  news  of  the  Friday's  accident ;  heard 
it,  with  conflicting  accounts  of  the  nund»ers 
and  names  of  the  passengers  killed.  At  Bristol 
they  weri!  hetter  informed,  and  the  dreadful 
trutli  about  Mr.  A'anstone  was  confirmed.  I 
had  time  to  recover  myself  before  I  reached 
your  station  here,  and  iound  Mr.  Clare's  son 
waiting  for  me.  lie  took  me  to  his  fathers  cot- 
tage ;  and  there,  without  losing  a  moment,  I 
drew  out  iMrs.  Vanstone's  will.  My  object  was 
to  secure  the  only  provision  for  her  daughters 
which  it  was  now  possible  to  make.  Mr. 
Vanstone  having  died  intestate,  a  third  of  his 
fortune  woulil  go  to  his  widow,  and  the  rest 
would  be  divided  among  his  ne.\t  of  kin.  It 
is  the  cruel  peculiarity  of  the  English  law 
that  the  mariiage  of  the  parents  does  .not 
legitimatize  /-hildren  born  out  of  wedlock. 
Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters,  under  the  eircum- 
stanees  of  llieir  father's  de:ith,  had  no  more 
claim  to  a  share  in  hh  property  tliaii  the 
daughters  of  one  of  his  iJTborers  in  tlie  viUage. 
The  one  chance  left  was  that  theirjmother 
might  sufficiently  recover  to  leave  her  third 
share  to  them,  "by  will,  in  the  event  of  her 
decease.  Now  you  know  why  I  wrote  to  you 
to  ask  for  that  interview  —  why  I  waited  day 
and  night,  in  the  hope  of  receiving  a  sum- 
mons to  the  iiouse.  1  was  sincerely  sorry  to 
send  back  such  an  answer  to  your  note  of 
intpiiry  as  I  was  compelled  to  write.  But 
v.'liilc  there  was  a  chance  of  the  preservation 
of  Mi-s.  Vanstone's  life  the  secret  of  the  mai-- 
riage  was  hers,  not  mine,  and  every  considera- 
tion of  delicacy  forbade  me  to  disclose  it." 

"You  did  right,  Sir,"  said  Miss  Garth;  "1 
understand  your  motives,  and  respect  them." 

"  My  last  attempt  to  provide  for  the  daugh- 
ters," continued  Mr.  Pendril,  "  was,  as  you 
know,  rendered  unavailing  bj'  the  dangerous 
nature  of  Mrs.  Vanstone's  illness.  II  m-  deatli 
left  the  infant  who  sin-vived  lutr  by  a  few  hours 
(the  infant  bom,  you  will  remember,  in  lawful 
wedlock)  posse.ssed,  in  due  legal  course,  of  the 
whole  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  fortune.  On  the 
child's  death — if  it  had  only  outlived  the  mother 
by  a  few  seconds  instead  of  a  few  hours,  the 
result  would  have  been  the  same — the  next  of 
kin  to  tlie  legitimate  offspring  took  the  money  ; 
and  that  next  of  kin  is  the  infant's  j)alernal 
uncle,  Miclriel  Vanstone.  The  whole  fortune 
of  eighty  thousand  pounds  has  virtually  passed 
into  his  possession  already." 

"  Ani  there  no  otlier  relations  ?"  asked  ]\Iiss 
Garth.  "Is  there  no  hope  from  anyone  else.'" 

''  Tiiere  are  no  other  relations  with  ^Michael 
Vanstone's  claim,"  saiil  the  lawyer.  "  Tiiere 
are  no  grandfathers  or  grandmothers  of  the 
dead  (diild  (on  the  side  of  either  of  the  parents) 
now  alive.  It  was  not  likely  there  should  be, 
considering  the  ages  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone 
wheu  they  died.     But  it  is  a  misfortune  to  be 


reasonably  lamented  that  no  other  uncles  or 
aunts  survive.  There  are  cousins  alive — a  son 
and  two  daughters  of  that  elder  sister  of  Mr. 
\'anstoue's.  who  married  Archdeacon  Bartram, 
and  who  died,  as  I  told  you,  some  years  since. 
But  tlieir  interest  is  superseded  by  the  interest 
'.  of  the  nearer  blood.  No,  Miss  Garth,  we 
{  must  look  facts  as  they  are  resolutely  in  the 
face.  The  law  of  England,  as  it  affects  illegit- 
I  imate  offsjiring,  is  a  disgrace  to  the  nation.  It 
violates  every  principle  of  Christian  mercy,  by 
visiting  the  sins  of  tlie  parents  on  the  children  ; 
it  encourages  vice  by  depriving  fathers  and 
mothers  of"  the  strongest  of  all  motives  for 
making  the  atonement  of  marriage ;  and  it 
claims  to  produce  these  two  abominable  results 
in  the  names  of  morality  and  religion.  It  is 
not  the  law  of  Scotland,  not  the  law  of  France, 
not  the  law  (so  far  as  I  know)  of  any  other 
civilized  community'  in  Europe.  A  day  may 
come  wlien  England  will  be  ashamed  of  it; 
but  that  day  has  not  dawned  yet.  jNlr.  Van- 
stone's daughters  are  Nobody's  Children,  and 
the  law  leaves  them  helpless  at  their  uncle's 
mercy." 

He  spoke  those  words  witli  the  energy  of 
honest  indignation,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  It  is  useless  to  dwell  longer,"  he  said,  "  on 
past  and  present.  The  morning  is  wearing 
away,  antl  the  future  claims  us.  The  best 
service  which  I  can  now  render  you  is  to 
shorten  the  period  of  your  suspense.  In  less 
than  an  hour  I  shall  be  on  my  way  back  to 
London.  Immediately  on  my  arrival  I  will 
ascertain  the  speediest  means  of  communicat- 
ing witii  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone,  and  Avill  let 
you  know  the  result.  Sad  as  the  position  of 
the  two  sisters  now  is,  we  must  look  at  it  on 
its  best  side ;  we  must  not  lose  hope." 

"  Hope  ?"  repeated  ]\Iiss  Garth.  "  Hope 
from  Michael  Vanstone !" 

"  Yes ;  Lope  from  the  influence  on  him  of 
time,  if  not  from  the  influence  of  mercy.  As  I 
have  already  told  you,  he  is  now  an  old  man; 
he  can  not,  in  the  course  of  nature,  expect  to 
live  much  longer.  If  li<'  looks  back  to  the 
period  when  he  and  his  brother  were  first  at 
variance,  he  must  look  back  through  thirty 
years.  Surely  these  are  softening  influences 
which  must  affect  any  man  V  Surely  his  own 
knowledge  of  the  shocking  circumstances  under 
which  he  has  become  possessed  of  this  money 
will  plead  with  him,  if  nothing  else  does?" 

"  I  will  try  to  think  as  you  do,  Mr.  Pendril — 
I  will  try  to  hope  for  the  best.  Shall  we  be 
left  long  in  suspense  before  the  decision  reaches 
us  ?" 

"  I  trust  not.  The  only  delay  on  my  side 
will  be  caused  by  the  necessity  of  discovering 
the  place  of  Michael  Vanstone's  residence  on 
the  Continent.  I  think  I  have  the  means  of 
meeting  this  dllhculty  successfully,  and  the 
moment  I  reach  London  those  means  shall  be 
tried." 

He  took  up  his  hat,  and  then  returned  to 
the  table  on  which  the  father's  last  letter  and 


NO  NAME. 


53 


the  father's  useless  will  were  lying  side  by 
side.  After  a  moment's  consideration  he  placed 
them  both  in  Miss  Garth's  hands. 

"  It  may  lielp  you  in  breaking  the  hard  truth 
to  the  orphan  sisters,"  he  said,  in  his  quiet, 
self-repressed  way,  "  if  they  can  see  how  their 
father  refers'  to  them  in  his  Avill — if  they  can 
read  his  letter  to  me,  the  la,st  he  ever  wrote. 
Let  these  tokens  tell  them  tliat  the  one  idea  of 
their  father's  life  was  the  idea  of  making  atone- 
ment to  his  children.  *  They  may  think  bit- 
terly of  their  birth,'  he  sai<l  to  me  at  the  time 
when  I  drew  this  useless  will ;  '  but  they  shall 
never  think  bitterly  of  me.  I  will  cross  them 
in  nothing :  they  shall  never  know  a  sorrow 
that  I  can  spare  them,, or  a  want  which  I  will 
not  satisfy.'  He  made  me  put  those  words  in 
his  will  to  plead  for  him  when  the  truth  which 
he  had  concealed  from  his  children  in  his  life- 
time was  revealed  to  them  after  his  <leath.  No 
law  can  deprive  his  daughters  of  the  legacy  of 
his  repentance  and  his  love.  I  leave  the  will 
and  the  letter  to  hel])  you :  I  give  them  both 
into  your  care." 

He  saw  how  his  parting  kindness  touched 
her,  and  thougl it  fully  hastened  the  farewell. 
She  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own,  and  mur- 
mured a  few  broken  words  of  gratitude. 
"  Trust  me  to  do  my  best,"  he  said — and,  turn- 
ing away  with  a  merciful  abrujitness,  left  her. 
In  the  broad,  cheerful  sunshine  he  had  come 
in  to  reveal  the  fatal  truth.  In  the  broad, 
cheerful  sunshine  —  that  truth  disclosed  —  he 
went  out. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  past  noon  when  Mr. 
Pendrll  left  the  house.  ]\Iiss  Garth  sat  down 
again  at  the  table  alone,  and  tried  to  face  the 
necessity  which  the  event  of  th6  morning  now 
forced  on  ht-r. 

Her  mind  was  not  equal  to  the  effort.  She 
tried  to  lessen  the  .strain  on  it  —  to  lose  the 
sense  of  her  own  position — to  escape  from  her 
thoughts  for  a  few  minutes  only.  After  a  little 
she  opened  ^fr.  Vanstone's  letter,  and  me- 
chanically set  herself  to  read  it  through  once 
more. 

One  by  one  the  last  words  of  the  dead  man 
fastened  themselves  more  and  more  firmly  on 
her  attention.  The  unrelieved  solitude,'  the 
unbroken  silence,  helped  their  in(luenc(i  on 
her  mind,  and  opened  it  to  those  very  impres- 
sions of  past  and  present  which  she  was  most 
anxious  to  shun.  As  she  rea«-hod  the  melan- 
choly lines  which  dosed  th('  letter  she  found 
herself — insensibly,  almost  unconsciously,  at 
first  —  tracing  the  fatal  chain  of  events,  link 
by  link,  backward,  until  she  reached  its  be- 
ginning in  the  contemplated  marriage  between 
Magdalen  and  Francis  Clare. 

That  marriage  had  taken  Mr.  Vanstone  to 
his  old  friend  with  the  confession  on  his  lip'< 
which   would  otherwise    never  have  escaped 


them.  Thence  came  the  discovery  which  had 
sent  him  home  to  summon  the  lawyer  to  the 
house.  That  summons  again  had  proiluced 
the  inevitable  acceleration  of  the  S  iturday's 
journey  to  Friilay ;  the  Friday  of  the  fatal 
accident,  the  Friday  when  he  went  to  his 
death.  From  his  death  followed  the  second 
bereavement  which  had  made  the  house  deso- 
late ;  the  helpless  position  of  the  daughters 
whose  prosperous  futun;  had  been  his  dearest 
care;  the  i-evelation  of  the  secret  which  had 
overwhelmed  her  that  morning ;  the  disclos- 
ure, more  terrible  still,  which  she  now  stood 
committed  to  make  to  the  orphan  sisters.  For 
the  first  time  she  sSw  the  whole  sequence  of 
events — saw  it  as  plainly  as  the  cloudless  blue 
of  the  sky  and  the  green  glow  of  the  trees  in 
the  sunlight  outside. 

How  —  when  could  she  tell  them  ?  Who 
could  approich  them  with  the  disclosure  ot 
their  own  illegitimacy  before  their  father  and 
mother  had  been  dead  a  week?  Who  could 
speak  the  dreadful  words  while  the  first  tears 
were  wet  on  their  cheeks,  while  the  first  pang 
of  separation  was  at  its  keenest  in  their  hearts, 
while  the  memory  of  the  fuiu'ral  was  not  a  day 
old  yet  ?  Not  their  last  friend  left ;  not  the 
faithful  wonwn  whose  heart  bled  lor  them. 
No  !  sdene<!for  the  present  time  at  all  risks  — 
meivifnl  silence  for  many  days  to  come  ! 

She  left  the  room  Avith  the  will  and  the 
letter  in  her  hand — with  the  mtural,  human 
pity  at  her  heart  wliich  sealed  her  lips  and 
shut  her  eyes  resolutely  to  the  future.  In  the 
hall  she  stopped  and  listened.  Not  a  sound 
was  audible.  She  softly  ascended  the  stairs 
on  lu'r  way  to  her  own  room,  and  passed  the 
door  of  Norah's  bedchamber.  Voices  inside, 
the  voices  of  the  two  sisters,  caught  her  ear. 
After  a  moment's  consideration  she  checked 
herself,  turned  back,  and  (piickly  descended 
the  stairs  again.  Both  Norah  and  Magdalen 
knew  of  the  interview  between  Mr.  Pendril 
and  herself;  she  had  felt  it  her  duty  to  show 
them  his  letter  making  the  appointment. 
Could  she  excite  their  suspicion  by  locking 
herself  up  from  them  in  her  room  as  soon 
as  the  lawyer  had  left,  the  house  ?  Her  hand 
trembled  on  the  stair-rail ;  .she  felt  that  her 
face  might  betray  her.  The  self-forgetful  for- 
titude, which  had  never  failed  her  until  that 
day,  had  been  tried  once  too  often — had  been 
tasked  beyond  its  jmwers  at  last.     • 

At  the  hall  door  she  reflected  for  a  molhent 
a^ain,  and  went  into  the  garden,  directing  her 
steps  to  a  rustic  bench  and  table  placed  out  of 
sight  of  the  hou«c  among  the  trees.  In  past 
times  she  had  ol^en  sat  there  with  ]\Irs.  ^  an- 
sfone  on  one  side,  with  Norah  on  the  other, 
with  Magdalen  and  the  dogs  romping  on  the 
grass.  Alone  she  sat  there  now — the  will  and 
the  letter,  which  she  dared  not  trust  out  of 
her  possession,  laid  on  the  table  —  her  head 
bowed  over  them ;  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands.  Alone  she  sat  thare,  and  tried  to  route 
her  Hiukiu;;  courags. 


54 


NO  NAIVIE. 


Doubts  thronged  on  her  of  the  dark  days  to 
come ;  dread  beset  her  of  the  hidden  danger 
which  her  own  silence  toward  Norah  and  Mag- 
dalen might  store  up  in  the  near  future.  The 
accident  of  a  moment  might  suddenly  reveal 
the  truth.  Mr.  Fendril  might  write,  might 
personally  address  himself  to  the  sisters,  in  the 
natuial  conviction  that  she  had  enlightened 
them.  Complications  might  gather  round 
them  at  a  moment's  notice;  unforeseen  neces- 
sities might  arise  for  Inunediateiy  leaving  the 
house.  She  saw  all  these  ])erils — and  still  the 
cruel  courage  to  face  the  worst,  and  sj)eak, 
was  as  far  from  her  as  ever.  lOre  long  the 
thickening  eonliict  of  her  thoughts  forced  its 
way  outward  for  relief  in  words  and  actions. 
She  raised  her  head,  and  beat  her  hand  help- 
lessly on  the  table. 

"  God  help  me,  what  am  I  to  do  !"  she  broke 
out.     "  How  am  I  to  tell  themV" 

"  There    is   no  need   to  tell-  tliem,"  said  a 

voice  behind  her.     "  They  know  it  already." 

She  started  to  her  feet,  and  looked  round. 

It  was  Mag'lalen  who  stood  before  her — ^lag- 

dalen  who  had  spoken  those  words. 

Yes,  there  was  the  graceful  figure,  in  its 
morning  garments,  standing  out  tall  and  black 
and  motionless  against  the  leafy  back-ground. 
There  was  Magdalen  herself,  with  a  change- 
less stillness  on  her  white  face ;  with  an  icy 
resignation  in  her  steady  gray  eyes. 

"  We  know  it  already,"  she  repeated,  in 
clear,  measured  tones.'  "  Mr.  Vanstone's 
daughtcT-s  are  Nobody's  Children,  and  the 
law  leaves  them  helpless  at  their  uncle's 
mercy." 

So",  without  a  tear  on  her  cheeks,  without  a 
faltering  tone  in  her  voice,  she  repeated  the 
lawyer's  own  words,  exactly  as  he  had  spoken 
them.  Miss  Garth  staggered  back  a  step,  and 
caught  at  the  bench  to  support  herself.  Her 
head  swam ;  she  closed  her  eyes  in  a  momen- 
tary faintness.  When  they  opened  again 
Magdalen's  arm  was  supporting  her,  Magda- 
len's breath  fanned  her  cheek,  Magdalen's 
cold  lips  kissed  her.  She  drew  back  from  the 
kiss;  the  touch  of  the  girl's  lips  thrilled  her 
with  terror. 

As  soon  as  she  could  speak  she  put  the  in- 
evitable question.  "  You  heard  us,"  she  said. 
"Where  V" 

*'  Under  the  open  window." 
"  All  the  time  V" 
"From  beginning  to  end." 
She  had  listened  —  this  girl  of  eighteen,  in 
the  first  week  of  her  orphanage,  had  listened 
to   the    whole    terrible    revelation,  word   by 
word,  as  it  fell  from  the  lawyer's  lips,  and  had 
never  once  betrayed  herself!     From  first  to 
last,  the  only  movements  which  had  escaped 
her  had  been  movements  guarded  enough  and 
slight  enough  to  be  mistaken  for  the  passage 
of  the  summer  breeze  through  the  leaves ! 

"  Don't  try  to  speak  yot,"  she  said,  in  softer 
»nd  gentler  tones.  "  Don't  look  at  me  with 
those   doubting  eyes.     What   wrong   have  I 


done  ?  When  ]\Ir.  Pendril  wished  to  speak 
to  vou  about  Norah  and  me  his  letter  gave  us 
our  choice  to  be  present  at  the  interview,  or 
to  keep  away.  If  my  elder  sister  decided  to 
keep  awav,  how  could  I  come  V  How  could  I 
hear  m\-  own  story  except  as  I  did  ?  My 
listening  has  done  no  harm.  It  has. done  good 
—  it  has  saved  you  the  distress  of  speaking  to 
us.  You  have  suffered  enough  for  us  already  : 
it  is  time  we  learned  to  suffer  for  ourselves.  I 
have  learned.     And  Norah  is  learning." 

"  Norah !" 

"  Yes.  I  have  done  all  I  could  to  spare  you. 
I  have  told  Norah." 

She  had  told  Norah !  Was  this  girl,  whose 
courage  had  faced  the  terrible  necessity  from 
which  a  woman  old  enough  to  be  her  mother 
had  recoiled,  the  girl  Miss  Garth  had  brought 
up?  the  girl  whose  nature  she  had  believed  to 
be  as  well  known  to  her  as  her  own  ? 

"  Magdalen !"  she  cried  out,  passionately, 
"  you  frighten  me  !" 

Magdalen  only  sighed,  and  turned  wearily 
away. 

"  Try  not  to  think  worse  of  me  than  I  de- 
serve," she  said.  "  I  can't  cry.  My  heart  is 
numbed." 

She  moved  away  slowly  over  the  grass. 
Miss  Garth  watched  the  tall  black  figure 
gliding  away  alone,  until  it  was  lost  among 
the  trees.  While  it  was  in  sight  she  could 
think  of  nothing  else.  The  moment  it  was 
gone  she  thought  of  Norah.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  experience  of  the  sisters  her  heart 
led  her  instinctively  to  the  elder  of  the  two. 

Norah  was  still  in  her  own  room.  She  was 
sitting  on  the  couch  by  the  window,  with  her 
mother's  old  music-book — the  keepsake  which 
Mrs.  Vanstoue  had  found  in  her  husband's 
study  on  the  day  of  her  husband's  death  — 
spread  open  on  her  lap.  She  looked  up  from 
it  with  such  quiet  sorrow,  and  pointed  with 
such  ready  kindness  to  the  vacant  place  at  her 
side,  that  ]\Iiss  Garth  doubted  for  the  moment 
whether  Magdalen  had  spoken  the  truth. 
"  See,"  said  Norah,  simply,  turning  to  the 
first  leaf  in  the  music-book.  "  My  mother's 
name  written  in  it,  and  some  verses  to  my 
father  on  the  next  page.  We  may  keep  this 
for  ourselves  if  we  keep  nothing  else."  She 
])ut  her  arm  round  Miss  Garth's  neck,  and  a 
faint  tinge  of  color  stole  over  her  cheeks.  "  I 
see  anxious  thoughts  in  your  face,"  she  whis- 
pered. *•  Are  you  anxious  about  me  ?  Are 
you  doubting  whether  I  have  heard  it  ?  I 
have  heard  the  whole  truth.  I  might  have 
felt  it  bitterly  later ;  it  is  too  soon  to  feel  it 
now.  You  have  seen  Magdalen  ?  She  went 
out  to  find  you — where  did  you  leave  her? 

"  In  the  garden.  I  couldn't  speak  to  her;  I 
couldn't  look  at  her.  Magdalen  has  frightened 
me." 

Norah  rose  hurriedly;  rose,  startled  and 
distressed  by  INIiss  Garth's  reply. 

"  Don't  think  ill  of  Magdalen,"  she  said. 
"  Magdalen  suffers  in  secret  more  than  I  da 


NO  NAJklE. 


55 


Try  not  to  grieve  over  what-  yon  have  heard 
about  us  this  morning.  Does  it  matter  who  we 
are,  or  what  we  keep  or  los^  ?  What  loss  is 
there  for  us  after  the  loss  of  our  father  and 
mother?  Oh,  Miss  Garth,  there  is  the  only 
bitterness !  What  did  we  remember  of  them 
when  we  laid  them  in  the  grave  yesterday  ? 
Nothing  but  the  love  the}-  gave  us  —  the  love 
we  must  never  hope  for  again.  What  else 
can  we  remember  to-day  V  Wliat  ehange  ean 
the  world  and  the  world's  cruel  laws  make  in 
our  memory  of  the  kindest  father,  tlie  kindest 
mother,  that  children  ever  had !"  Slie  stopped ; 
struggled  with  her  rising  grief;  and  (juietly, 
resolutely  kept  it  down.  "  Will  you  wait 
here," she  said,  "while  I  go  and  bring  Mag- 
dalen back  ?  Jlagdalen  was  alw;»ys  your  <a- 
vorite:  1  want  her  to  be  your  favorite  still." 
She  laid  the  music-book  gently  on  ISIiss  Garth's 
lap,  and  left  the  ro(mi. 

"  Magdalen  was  always  your  favorite."  . 

Tenderly  as  they  had  been  spoken,  those 
words  fell  reproachfully  on  Miss  Garth's  ear. 
For  the  first  time  in  the  long  companionship  of 
her  pupils  and  herself,  a  doubt  whether  she, 
and  all  those  about  her,  had  not  been  latally 
mistaken  in  their  relative  estimate  of  the  sis- 
ters, now  forced  itself  on  her  mind. 

She  had  studied  the  natures  of  her  two  pu- 
pils in  the  daily  intimacy  of  twelve  years. 
Those  natures,  which  she  believed  herself  to 
have  sounded  through  all  their  depths,  had 
been  suddenly  tried  in  the  sharp  ordeal  of 
affliction.  How  had  they  come  out  from  the 
test?  As  her  previous  experience  had  pre- 
pared her  to  see  themV  No:  in  Hat  contra- 
diction to  it. 

What  did  such  a  result  as  this  imply? 

Thoughts  came  to  her  as  she  asked  herself 
that  question  which  have  startled  and  sad- 
dened us  all. 

Does  there  exist  in  every  human  being, 
beneath  that  outward  and  visible  character 
which  is  shaped  into  forn\  by  the  social  inllu- 
ences  surrounding  us,  an  inward,  invisible  dis- 
position which  is  part  of  ourselves;  which 
education  may  indirectly  modify,  but  can 
never  hope  to  change  ?  Is  the  philosophy 
which  denies  this,  and  asserts  that  we  are 
born  with  dispositions  like  blank  sheets  of 
paper,  a  philosophy  which  has  failed  to  re- 
I  mark  that  we  are  not  born  with  blank  faces — 
i  a  philosophy  which  has  never  compared  to- 
gether two  infants  of  a  few  days  old,  and  has 
never  observed  that  those  infants  are  not 
born  with  blank  tempers  for  mothers  and 
nurses  to  (ill  up  at  will  ?  Are  there,  infinitely 
varying  witli  each  individual,  inbred  forces  of 
Good  and  Evil  in  all  of  us,  deep  ilown  below 
the  reach  of  mortal  encouragement  and  mor- 
tal repression  —  hid<len  Good  and  hidden 
Evil,  both  alike  at  the  mercy  of  the  liberat- 
ing opportunity  and  the  sufricient  tempta- 
tion? Within  these  earthly  limits  is  earthly 
Circumstan<e  ever  the  key  ;  and  can  no  hu- 
man vigUancc  warn  us  beforehand  of  the  forccB 


imprisoned  in  ourselves  which  that  key  may 
unlock  ? 

For  the  first  time  thouyjhts  such  as  these 
rose  darkly — as  shadowy  and  terrible  possi- 
bilities—  in  ISIiss  Garth's  mind.  For  the  first 
time  she  associated  those  possibilities  with  the 
past  conduct  and  characters,  with  the  future 
lives  and  fb'tuncs,  of  the  orjihan  sisters. 

Searching,  as  in  a  glass  darkly,  into  the  two 
natures,  she  felt  her  way,  doubt  bv  doubt, 
from  one  possible  truth  to  another.  It  miTht 
be  that  the  ujjper  surface  of  their  characters 
was  all  that  she  had  thus  far  plainlv  seen 
in  Norab  and  IVIagdalen.  It  might  be  that 
the  unalluring  secrecy  and  reserve  of  one 
sister,  the  all-attractive  openn'ss  and  hi^h  spir- 
its of  the  other,  were  more  or  less  referable, 
in  each  case,  to  those  physii-al  causes  which 
work  toward  the  ])ro(luctiou  of  moral  results. 
It  might  be  that  under  tht^  sur.'ace  so  formed — 
a  surface  which  there  had  been  nothing,  hith- 
erto, in  the  hap])y,  pios})erous,  uneventful 
lives  of  the  sisters  to  disturb — forces  of  inborn 
and  inbred  disposition  had  remained  con- 
cealed whicli  the  shock  of  the  first  serious 
calamity  in  their  lives  had  now  thrown  up 
into  view.  Was  this  so  ?  AVas  the  promise 
of  the  future  shining  witli  prophetic  light 
through  the  surfari-shadow  of  Norah's  re- 
serve, and  darkening  with  prophetic  gloom 
under  the  suriace-glitter  of  ^lagdalen's  bright 
spirits?  If  the  life  of  the  elder  sister  was 
destined  henceforth  to  be  ihe  ripening-ground 
of  the  undeveloped  (Jood  that  was  in  her,  was 
the  life  of  the  younger  doomed  to  be  the 
battle-field  of  mortal  coufiict  with  the  roused 
forces  of  Evil  in  herself? 

On  the  brink  of  that  terrible  conclusion 
Miss  Garth  shrank  back  in  dismay.  Her 
heart  was  the  heart  of  a  true  woman.  It 
accepted  the  conviction  which  raised  Norah 
higher  in  her  love  :  it  rejected  the  doubt 
which  threatened  to  place  ^lagdalen  lower. 
She  rose,  and  paced  the  room  impatiently ;  she 
reci)iled  with  an  angry  sudiimness  from  the 
whole  train  of  thought  in  which  her  mind 
had  been  engaged  but  the  moment  b(!fore. 
A\  hat  if  there  were  dangerous  «dements  in 
the  strength  of  Magdalen's  character — was 
it  not  her  duty  to  help  t!ie  girl  against  her- 
self? IIow  had  she  performed  that  duty? 
She  had  let  herself  be  governed  by  first  fi-ars 
and  first  impressions  ;  she  had  never  waited 
to  consider  whether  Magdalen's  <»penly  ac- 
knowledged action  of  that  inorninir  might  not 
implv  a  self-sacrificing  fortitude,  which  prnui- 
ised  in  after-life  the  noblest  and  highest  re- 
sults. She  had  let  Norah  go  and  s]ieak  those 
words  of  tender  remonstrance,  of  pleading 
sympathv,  which  she  sliould  first  have  spoken 
herself  *'  Oh  !"  she  thought  bitterly,  "  how 
long  I  have  lived  in  the  world,  and  how  little 
I  have  known  of  my  own  weakness  and  wick- 
edness until  to-<lay  I" 

The  door  of  the  room  opened.  Norah  came 
in,  as  she  had  gone  out,  alone. 


56 


xo  na:me. 


"  Do  TOO  remember  leaTiner  anjthiujr  on 
the  little  table  by  the  garden-seat  ?"  she  asked, 
quietly. 

Before  Miss  Garth  could  answer  the  ques- 
tion she  held  out  her  father's  will  and  her 
fathers  letter. 

"  Magdalen  came  back  after  you  went 
away,"  she  said,  "  and  found  these  la.st  relics. 
She  heard  Mr.  Pendril  say  they  were  lier 
legacy  and  mine.  When  I  went  into  the 
garden  she  was  reading  the  letter.  Tliere 
was  no  need  for  me  to  speak  to  her:  our 
father  had  spoken  to  her  from  his  grave.  See 
how  she  has  listened  to  him  I" 

She  pointed  to  the  letter.  The  traces  of 
heavy  tear-drops  lay  thick  over  the  last  lines 
of  the  dead  man's  writing. 

"  Her  tears."  said  Norah,  softly. 

Miss  Gartli's  head  drooped  low  over  the 
mute  revelation  of  Magdalen's  return  to  her 
better  self. 

"  OJi,  never  doubt  her  again  I"  pleaded 
Norah.  "  We  are  alone  now — we  have  our 
hard  way  through  the  world  to  walk  on  as 
patiently  as  we  can.  If  iMagdalen  ever  fal- 
ters and  turns  back,  help  her  for  the  love  of 
old  times  ;  help  her  against  herself." 

'•  With  all  my  heart  and  strength,  as  God. 
shall  judge  me,  Avith  the  devotion  of  my  whole 
life  !"'  In  those  fervent  words  INIiss  (rarth 
answered.  Siie  took  the  hand  which  Xorah 
held  out  to  her,  and  put  it,  in  sorrow  and 
humility,  to  her  lips.  '•  Oh,  my  love,  forgive 
me!  I  have  been  miserably  blind — I  have 
never  valued  you  as  I  ought !' 

Norah  gently  checked  her  before  she  could 
say  more  —  gently  whispered,  "  Come  with 
me  into  the  garden — come,  and  help  Magda- 
len to  look  patiently  to  the  future." 

The  future  !  Who  could  see  the  faintest 
glimmer  of  it  ?  Who  could  see  anything  but 
the  ill-omened  figure  of  Michael  Vanstone 
posted  darkly  on  the  verge  of  the  present 
time,  and  closing  all  the  prospect  that  lay 
beyond  him? 


CHAPTER  XV. 

On  the  next  morning  but  one  news  was 
received  from  Mr.  Pendril.  The  place  of 
Michael  Vanstone's  residence  on  the  Conti- 
nent had  been  discovered.  He  was  living  at 
Zurich,  and  a  letter  had  been  dispatched  to 
him  at  that  pi  \ce  on  the  day  when  the  infor- 
mation v/as  obtained.  In  tiie  course  of  the 
coming  week  au  answer  might  be  expected, 
and  the  purport  of  it  should  be  communicated 
forthwith  to  the  ladies  at  Combe-Raven. 

Short  as  it  was  the  interval  of  delay  passed 
wearily.  Ten  days  elapsed  before  the  ex- 
pected answer  was  received ;  and  when  it 
came  at  last  it  proved  to  be,  strictly  speaking, 
no  answer  at  all.  Mr.  Pendril  bad  been 
merely  referred  to  au  agent  in  London  who 
was  in  possession  of  Michael  Vanstone's  in- 


structions.    Certain  difficulties  had  been  dift- , 
covered  in  connection  with  those  instructions, 
which   had   produced   the   necessity  of  once 
more   writing   to    Zurich.     And   there   "  the 
negotiations"  rested  again  for  the  present. 

A  second  paragraph  in  Mr.  Pendril's  letter 
contained  another  piece  of  intelligence  en- 
tirclv  new.  ]Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  son  (and 
only"  child),  ^Nlr.  Noel  Vanstone,  had  recently 
arrived  in  London,  and  was  then  staying  in 
lodgings  OL'cupied  bj'  his  cousin,  Mr.  George 
Bartram.  Professional  considerations  had  in- 
duced INIr.  Pendril  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  lodg- 
inss.  He  had  been  very  kindly  received  by 
Mr.  Bartram,  but  had  been  informed  by  that 
gentleman  that  his  cousin  was  not  then  in  a 
condition  to  see  visitors.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
had  been  sufiering  for  some  years  past  from  a 
wearing  and  obstinate  malady ;  he  had  come 
to  England  expressly  to  obtain  the  best  medi- 
cal advice,  and  he  still  felt  the  fatigue  of  the 
journey  so  severely  as  to  be  confined  to  his 
bed.  Under  these  cli'cumstances,  Mr.  Pen- 
dril had  no  alternative  but  to  take  his  leave. 
An  interview  with  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  might 
have  cleared  up  some  of  the  difficulties  in 
connection  with  his  father's  instructions.  As 
events  had  turned  out,  there  was  no  help  for 
it  but  to  wait  for  a  few  days  more. 

The  days  passed,  the  empty  days  of  solitude 
and  suspense.  At  last  a  third  letter  from  the 
lawyer  announced  the  long-delayed  conclu- 
sion of  the  correspondence.  The  final  answer 
had  been  received  from  Zurich,  and  Mr. 
Pendril  would  personally  communicate  it  at 
Combe-Raven  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next 
day. 

That  next  day  was  Wednesday,  the  twelfth 
of  August.  The  weather  had  changed  in  the 
night,  and  the  t;un  rose  watery  through  mist 
and  cloud.  By  noon  the  sky  was  overcast 
at  all  points ;  the  temperature  was  sensibly 
colder ;  and  the  rain  poured  down,  straight 
and  soft  and  steady,  on  the  thirsty  earth. 
Toward  three  o'clock  Miss  Garth  and  Norah 
entered  the  morning-room  to  await  Mr.  Pen- 
dril's arrival.  They  were  joined  shortly  af- 
terward by  JMagdalen.  In  half  an  hour  more 
the  familiar  fall  of  the  iron  latch  in  the  socket 
reached  their  ears  from  the  fence  beyond  the 
shrubbery.  Mr.  Pendril  and  Mr.  Clare  ad- 
vanced into  view  along  the  garden  path, 
walking  arm  in  arm  throug'n  the  rain,  shel- 
tered by  the  same  umbrella.  The  lawyer 
bowed  as  they  passed  the  windows :  Mr.  Clare 
walked  straiglit  on,  deep  in  his  own  thoughts, 
noticing  nothing. 

After  a  delay  v/hich  seemed  interminable  ; 
after  a  w^eary  scraping  of  wet  feet  on  the  hall 
mat ;  after  a  mystei-ious,  muttered  interchange 
of  question  and  answer  outside  the  door,  the 
two  came  in  —  Mr.  Clare  leading  the  way. 
The  old  man  walked  straight  up  to  the  table 
without  any  preliminary  greeting,  and  looked 
across  it  at  the  three  women  with  a  stern  pity 
for  them  in  his  rugged,  wrinkled  face. 


NO  NAME. 


57 


"  Bad  news,"  he  said.  "  I  am  an  enemy  to 
all  unnecessary  suspense.  Plainness  is  kind- 
ness in  such  a  case  as  this.  I  mean  to  be 
kind;  and  I  tell  you  plainly— bad  news." 

Mr.  Pendril  followed  him.  He  shook  hands, 
in  silence,  with  Miss  Garth  and  the  two  sis- 
ters, and  took  a  seat  near  them.  Mr.  Clare 
placed  himself  apart  on  a  chair  by  the  window. 
The  >n'ay  rainy  liglit  fell  soft  and  sad  on  the 
faces'^of  Noraii  and  Magdalen,  who  sat  to- 
frether  opposite  to  him.  I\Iiss  Garth  had 
placed  herself  a  little  behind  them,  in  partial 
sliadow ;  and  the  lawyer's  quiet  face  was  seen 
in  profde,  close  beside  her.  So  the  four  occu- 
j)ants  of  the  room  appeared  to  Mr.  Clare,  as 
lie  sat  apart  in  his  corner;  his  long  claw-like 
fingers  interlaced  on  his  knee;  his  dark  vigil- 
ant eyes  fixed  searchingly  now  on  one  face, 
now  on  another.  The  dripping  rustle  of  the 
rain  among  the  leaves,  and  the  clear,  cease- 
less tick  of  the  clock  on  the  mantle-piece, 
made  the  minute  of  silence  which  followed  the 
settling  of  the  persons  present  in  their  places 
indcsci-ibably  oppressive.  It  was  a  relief  to 
every  one  when  Mr.  Pendril  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Clare  has  told  you  already,"  he  began, 
"  that  I  am  the  bearer  of  bad  news.  I  am 
grieved  to  say,  I\Iiss  Garth,  that  your  doubts, 
when  I  last  saw  you,  were  better  founded  than 
my  hopes.  What  that  heartless  elder  brother 
was  in  his  youth  hi?  is  still  in  Irs  old  age.  In 
all  my  unliappy  experience  of  the  worst  side 
of  human  nature,  I  have  never  met  with  a 
man  so  utterly  dead  to  every  consideration  of 
mercy  as  Mirhael  Vanstone." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  takes  the  whole  of 
his  brotlier's  fortune,  and  makes  no  jjrovision 
whatever  for  his  bi'other's  children  V"  asked 
Miss  Garth. 

"  He  ofiVrs  a  sum  of  money  for  present 
emergencies,"  replied  Mr.  Pendril,  "so  mean- 
ly and  disgracefully  insufficient  that  I  am 
ashamed  to  mention  it." 

"  And  nothing  for  the  future  ?" 
"  Absolutely  nothing." 

As  that  answer  was  given  tlic  same  thought 
passed,  at  the  same  moment,  through  Miss 
(iarth's  mind  and  through  Norah's.  The  de- 
cision which  deprived  both  the  sisters  alike  of 
the  resources  of  fortune  did  not  end  there  for 
the  younger  of  the  two.  Michael  Vanstone's 
merciless  resolution  had  virtually  pronounced 
the  sentence  which  dismis.scd  Frank  to  China, 
and  which  destioyed  all  present  hoj)e  of  Mag- 
dalen's marriage.  As  tiic  words  passed  the 
lawyer's  lips  Miss  Garth  and  Norah  looked  at 
Magdalen  anxiously.  Her  face  turned  a  shade 
paler,  but  not  a  feature  of  it  moved ;  not  a 
word  escaped  her.  Norah,  who  lield  her  sis- 
ter's hand  in  her  own,  felt  it  tremble  for  a 
moment,  and  then  (urn  cold  —  and  that  was 
all. 

"  Let  me  mention  plainly  what  I  have  done," 
resumed  Mr.  Pendril  ;  "  I  am  very  desirous 
you  should  not  think  that  I  have  left  any  eflTort 
untried.     When  I  wrote  to  Michael  Vanstone, 


in  the  first  instance,  I  did  not  confine  myself 
to  the  usual  formal  statement.  I  put  before 
him,  plainly  and  earnestly,  every  one  of  the 
circumstances  under  which  ho  has  become 
possessed  of  his  brother's  fortune.  When  I 
received  the  answer,  referring  me  to  his  writ- 
ten instructions  to  his  lawyer  in  London — and 
when  a  copy  of  those  instructions  was  placed 
in  my  hands — I  positively  declined,  on  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  them,  to  receive  the 
writer's  decision  as  final.  I  induced  the  so- 
licitor on  the  other  side  to  accord  us  a  further 
term  of  delay ;  I  attempted  to  see  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  in  Loudon  for  the  purpose  of  ob- 
taining his  intercession  ;  and,  failing  in  that,  I 
myself  wrote  to  his  father  for  the  second  time. 
The  answer  referred  me,  in  insolently  curt 
terms,  to  the  instructions  already  communicat- 
ed ;  declared  those  instructions  to  be  final; 
and  declined  any  further  correspondence  with 
me.  There  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of 
the  negotiation.  If  I  have  overlooked  any 
means  of  touching  this  heartless  man,  tell  me, 
and  those  means  shall  be  tried." 

He  looked  at  Norah.  Siie  pi-essed  her  sis- 
ter's hand  encouragingly,  and  answered  for 
both  of  them. 

"  I  speak  for  my  sister  as  well  as  for  myself," 
she  said,  with  her  color  a  little  heightened,  withi 
her  natural  gentleness  of  manner  just  touched 
by  a  quiet,  uncomplaining  sadness.  "You 
have  done  all  that  could  be  done,  Mr.  Pendril. 
We  have  tried  to  restrain  ourselves  from 
hoping  too  confidently;  and  we  are  deeply 
grateful  for  your  kindness,  at  a  time  when 
kindness  is  sorely  needed  by  both  of  us." 

Magdalen's  hand  returned  the  pressure  of 
her  sister's — withdrew  itself— trifled  for  a  mo- 
ment impatiently  with  the  arrangement  of  her 
dress  —  then  suddenly  moved  the  chair  closer 
to  the  table.  Leaning  one  arm  on  it  (with  the 
hand  fast  clenched),  she  looked  across  at  Mr. 
Pendril.  Her  face,  always  remarkable  for  its 
want  of  color,  was  now  startling  to  contem- 
plate in  its  blank,  bloodless  pallor.  IJut  the 
light  in  her  large  gray  eyes  was  bright  and 
stX'ady  as  ever;  and  her  voice,  though  low  in 
tone,  was  clear  and  resolute  in  accent  as  she 
addressed  the  lawyer  in  these  terms: 

"  I  understood  you  to  say,  Mr.  Pendril,  that 
my  father's  brother  had  sent  his  written  orders 
to"  London,  and  that  you  had  a  copy.  Have 
you  preserved  it  V" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Have  you  got  it  about  you  ?" 

"  I  have  V" 

"  Mav  I  see  it?" 

Mr.  Pendril  h-sitated,  and  lo(Jced  uneasilj 
from  Magdalen  to  Miss  Garth,  and  from  Miss 
Garth  back  again  to  Magdalen. 

"  Pray  oblige  mc  by  not  pressing  your  re- 
quest," he  said.  "  It  is  surely  enough  that 
you  know  the  result  of  the  instructions.  Why 
should  you  agitate  yourself  to  no  purpose  by 
reading  them  ?  They  are  expressed  so  rruel- 
ly ;  they  show  such  abominable  want  of  feel- 


58 


NO  NAME. 


'm<r,  that  I  really  can  not  prevail  upon  myself 
to  let  you  see  them." 

"  I  am  sensible  of  your  kindness,  Mr.  Pen- 
dril,  in  wishing  to  spare  me  pain.  But  1  can 
bear  pain ;  I  promise  to  distress  nobody.  Will 
you  excuse  me  if  I  repeat  my  request?" 

She  held  out  her  hand — the  soft,  white,  vir- 
gin hand  that  had  touched  nothing  to  soil  it  or 
harden  it  yet. 

"  Oh,  Magdalen,  think  again  !"  said  Norah. 

"  You  distress  Mr.  Tendril,"  added  Miss 
Garth  ;  "  you  distress  us  all." 

"  There  can  be  no  end  gained,"  pleaded  the 
lawyer — "  forgive  me  for  saying  so — there  can 
really  be  no  useful  end  gained  by  my  showing 
you  the  instructions." 

("  Fools !"  said  Mr.  Clare  to  himself  "  Have 
they  no  eyes  to  see  that  she  means  to  have  her 
own  way '?") 

"  Something  tells  me  there  is  an  end  to  be 
gained,"  persisted  Magdalen.  "  This  decision 
is  a  very  serious  one.  It  is  more  serious  to 
me — "  She  looked  round  at  Mr.  Clare,  who 
gat  closely  watching  her,  and  instantly  looked 
back  again,  with  the  first  outward  betrayal  of 
emotion  which  had  escapiid  her  yet.  "  It  is 
even  more  serious  to  me,"  she  resumed,  "  for 
private  reasons,  than  it  is  to  my  sister.  I  know 
nothing  yet  but  that  our  father's  brother  has 
taken  our  fortunes  from  us.  He  must  have 
some  motives  of  his  own  for  such  conduct  as 
that.  It  is  not  fair  to  him,  or  fair  to  us,  to  keep 
those  motives  concealed.  He  has  deliberately 
robbed  Norah,  and  robbed  me ;  and  I  think  we 
have  a  right,  if  we  wish  it,  to  know  why." 

"  I  don't  wish  it,"  said  Norah. 

"  I  do,"  said  Magdalen ;  and  once  more  she 
held  out  her  hand. 

At  this  point  Mr.  Clare  roused  himself  and 
interfered  for  the  first  time. 

"  You  have  relieved  your  conscience,"  he 
said,  addressing  the  lawyer.  "  Give  her  the 
right  she  claims.  It  is  her  right  —  if  she  will 
have  it." 

Mr.  Pendril  quietly  took  the;  written  in- 
structions from  his  pocket.  "  I  have  warned 
you,"  he  said,  and  handed  the  papers  across 
the  table  without  another  word.  One  of  the 
pages  of  writing  was  folded  down  at  the  corner, 
and  at  that  folded  page  the  manuscript  opened 
when  Magdalen  first  turned  the  leaves.  "  Is 
this  the  place  which  refers  to  my  sister  and 
myself?"  she  inquired.  Mr.  Pendril  bowed, 
and  Magdalen  smoothed  out  the  manuscript 
before  her  on  the  table. 

"  Will  you  decide,  Norah  ?"  she  asked,  turn- 
ing to  her  sister.  "  Shall  I  read  this  aloud,  or 
shall  I  read  it  to  myself?" 

"  To  yourself,"  said  Miss  Garth,  answering 
for  Norah,  who  looked  at  her  ia  mute  perplex- 
ity and  distress. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  said  Magdalen. 
With  that  reply  she  turned  again  to  the  manu- 
script, and  read  these  lines; 

^- You  aro  now  in  possession  of  my  wishes  in  re- 

lAtion  to  the  propearty  in  money,  and  to  tht!  sale  of  the  fur- 


nitiiie,  carriages,  iiorses.  anil  so  forth.  The  last  point  left 
on  which  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  instruct  you  refers  to  the 
persons  inhabiting  the  house,  and  to  certain  preposterous 
ehiiius  on  tlieir  behalf  set  up  by  a  solicitor  named  Pendril, 
who  has  no  doubt  interested  reasons  of  his  own  for  making 
application  to  me. 

••  I  uMilerstand  that  my  late  brother  has  left  two  illegiti- 
mate children,  both  of  them  young  women,  who  are  of  an 
ago  to  earn  their  own  livelihood.  Various  considor.itions, 
all  equally  irregular,  have  been  urged  in  respect  to  these 
per^iuns  by  the  solicitor  representing  them.  Be  so  good  as 
to  ti'll  him  that  neitiier  you  nor  I  have  anything  to  do  with 
que.'itions  of  mere  sentiment:  and  then  state  plainly,  for 
his  better  information,  what  the  motives  are  which  regulate 
my  conduct,  and  what  the  provision  is  which  I  feel  myself 
justified  in  making  for  the  two  young  women.  Your  in- 
structions on  both  these  points  you  will  find  detailed  in  the 
next  paragraph. 

"  I  wish  the  persons  concerned  to  know,  once  for  all,  how 
I  regard  the  circumstances  which  have  placed  my  late 
brother's  property  at  my  disposal.  Let  them  understand 
that  I  consider  those  circumstances  to  be  a  Providential 
interposition,  which  has  restored  to  me  the  inheritance 
that  ought  always  to  have  been  mine.  1  receive  the  money, 
not  only  as  my  right,  but  also  as  a  proper  compensation  for 
the  injustice  which  I  suffered  from  my  father. and  a  proper 
penalty  paid  by  my  younger  brother  for  the  vile  intrigue 
by  which  he  succeeded  in  disinheriting  mo.  His  conduct 
when  a  young  man  was  uniformly  discreditable  in  all  the 
relations  of  life;  and  what  it  then  was.  it  continued  to  be 
(on  the  showing  of  his  own  legal  representative)  after  the 
time  when  I  ceased  to  hold  any  communication  with  him. 
He  appears  to  have  systematically  imposed  a  woman  on  ,  { 
society  as  his  wife  who  was  not  his  wife,  and  to  have  com-  ™ 
pleted  the  outrage  on  morality  by  afterward  marrying  her. 
Such  conduct  as  this  has  called  down  a  judgment  on  him- 
self and  his  children.  I  will  not  invite  retribution  on  my 
own  head  by  .assisting  those  children  to  continue  the  impo- 
sition which  their  p.arents  practiced,  and  by  helping  them 
to  take  a  place  in  the  world  to  which  they  are  not  entitled. 
Let  them,  as  becomes  their  birth,  gain  their  bread  in  situa- 
tions. If  they  show  themselves  disposed  to  accept  their 
proper  position,  I  will  assist  them  to  start  virtuously  in  life 
by  a  present  of  one  hundred  pounds  each.  This  sum  I  au- 
thorize you  to  pay  them  on  their  personal  application,  with 
the  necessary  acknowledgment  of  receipt,  and  on  the  ex- 
press understanding  that  the  transaction,  so  completed,  is 
to  be  tlie  beginning  and  the  end  of  my  connection  with 
tliem.  The  arrangements  under  wiiich  they  quit  the  house 
I  leave  to  your  discretion;  and  I  have  only  to  add  that  my 
decision  on  this  matter,  as  on  all  other  matters,  is  positive 
and  final.'' 

Line  by  line — without  once  looking  up  from 
the  pages  before  her — Magdalen  read  those 
atrocious  sentences  through,  from  beginning 
to  end.  The  other  persons  assembled  in  the 
room,  all  eagerly  looking  at  her  together,  saw 
tlie  dress  rising  and  falling  faster  and  faster 
over  her  bosom — saw  the  hand  in  which  she 
lightly  held  the  manuscript  at  the  outset  close 
unconsciously  on  the  paper  and  crush  it  as  she 
advanced  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  end,  but 
detected  no  other  outward  signs  of  what  was 
passing  within  her.  As  soon  as  she  had  done 
she  silently  pushed  the  manuscript  away,  and 
put  her  hands  on  a  sudden  over  her  face. 
When  she  withdrew  them  all  the  four  persons 
in  the  room  noticed  a  change  in  her.  Some- 
thing in  her  expression  had  altered,  subtly  and 
silently ;  something  which  made  the  familiar 
features  suddenly  look  strange,  even  to  her 
sister  and  Miss  Garth ;  something,  through  all 
after  years,  never  to  be  forgotten  in  connection 
with  that  day — and  never  to  be  described. 

The  first  words  she  spoke  were  addressed  to 
Mr.  Pendril. 

"  May  I  ask  one  more  favor,"  she  said,  "  be- 
fore you  enter  on  your  business  arrangements?" 

Mr.  Pendril  replied  ceremoniously  by  a  ges- 
ture of  assent.  Magdalen's  resolution  to  possess 
herself  of  the  Instructions  did  not  appear  to 


NO  NAME. 


59 


have  produced  a  favorable  impression  on  tlie 
lawyer's  mind. 

"  Yon  mentioned  what  yon  were  so  kind  as 
to  do  in  our  interests  when  yon  first  wrote  to 
Mr.  Michael  Vanstone,"  she  continued.  "  You 
said  you  had  told  him  all  the  circumstances.  _  I 
■want — if  you  will  allow  me — to  be  made  quite 
sure  of  what  he  really  knew  about  us  when  he 
sent  these  orders  to  his  lawyer.  Did  he  know 
that  ray  father  had  made  a  will,  and  that  he 
had  left  our  fortunes  to  my  sister  and  myself?" 

"  lie  did  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Did  von  tell  him  how  it  hajipened  that  we 
are  left  in  this  helpless  jmsition  V" 

"  I  told  him  tliat  your  father  Avas  entirely 
unaware,  when  he  married,  of  the  necessity 
for  makinjr  another  will." 

"  And  that  another  will  would  have  been 
made,  after  he  saw  Mr.  Clare,  but  for  the 
dreadful  misfortune  of  his  death  V" 

"  He  knew  that  also." 

"  Did  he  know  that  my  father's  untiring 
goodness  and  kindn(>ss  to  both  of  us — " 
•  Her  voice  faltered  for  the  first  time  :  she 
sighed,  and  put  her  hand  to  her  head  wearily. 
Norah  spoke  entreatinfrly  to  her;  Miss  Gaith 
spoke  entreatingly  to  her;  Mr.  Clare  sat  silent, 
watching  her  more  and  more  earnestly.  She 
answered  her  sister's  remonstrance  with  a 
faint  smile.  "I  will  keep  my  promise,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  will  distress  nobody."  With  that 
reply  she  turned  again  to  Mr.  I'endril,  and 
steadily  reiterated  the  question  —  but  in  an- 
other form  of  words. 

"  Did  Mr.  ]\Iichael  Vanstone  know  that  my 
father's  great  anxiety  was  to  make  sure  of 
providing  for  my  sister  and  myself  V" 

"  He  knew  it  in  your  father's  own  words.  I 
sent  him  an  extract  from  your  father's  last 
letter  to  me." 

"  The  letter  which  asked  you  to  come  for 
(rod's  sake,  and  relieve  him  from  the  dreadftil 
thought  that  his  daughters  were  nnjirovided 
for  ?  The  letter  which  said  he  should  not 
rest  in  his  grave  if  he  left  us  disinherited  V" 

"  That  letter  and  those  words." 

She  paused,  still  keeping  her  eyes  steadily 
fixed  on  the  lawyer's  face. 

"  I  want  to  fasten  it  all  in  my  mind,"  she 
said,  "  before  1  go  on.  Mr.  Michael  Van- 
stone knew  of  the  first  will;  he  knew  what 
prevented  the  making  of  the  second  will ;  he 
knew  of  the  letter,  and  he  read  the  words. 
What  did  he  know  of  besides?  Did  you  tell 
him  of  my  mother's  last  illness  ?  Did  you  say 
that  her  share  in  the  money  would  have  been 
left  to  us  if  she  could  have  lifted  her  dying 
hand  in  your  presence  ?  Did  you  try  to  make 
him  ashamed  of  the  cruel  law  of  England 
which  calls  girls  in  our  situation  Nobody's 
Children,  and  which  allows  him  to  use  us  as 
he  is  using  u.t  now  ?" 

"I  put  all  those  considerations  to  him.  I 
left  none  of  them  doubtful ;  I  left  none  of  them 
out." 

She  slowly  reached  her  hand  to  the  copy  of 


the  Instructions,  and  slowly  folded  it  up  again 
in  the  shape  in  which  it  had  been  presented  to 
her.  "  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Pen- 
dril." With  those  words  she  bowed,  and 
gently  pushed  the  manuscript  back  across  the 
table;  then  turned  to  her  sister. 

"  Norah,"  she  said,  "  if  we  both  of  us  live  tq 
grow  ©Id,  and  if  you  ever  forget  all  that  we 
owe  to  ]Michael  Vanstone  —  come  to  me  and  1 
will  remind  you." 

She  rose  and  walked  across  the  room  by 
herself  to  the  window.  As  she  passed  Mr. 
Clare  the  old  man  stretched  out  his  claw-like 
fingers,  and  caught  her  fast  by  the  arm  before 
she  was  aware,  of  him. 

"What  is  tills  mask  of  yours  hiding?"  he 
asked,  forcing  her  to  bend  to  him,  and  looking 
closely  into  her  face.  ■'  \Vhich  of  the  extremes 
of  human  temperature  does  your  courage  start 
from — the  dead  cold  or  the  white  hot  ?" 

She  shrank  back  from  him,  and  turned 
away  her  head  in  silence.  She  would  h<ave 
resented  that  unscrupulous  intrusion  on  her 
own  thoughts  from  any  man  alive  but  Frank's 
father.  He  dro])ped  her  arm  as  suddenly  as 
he  had  taken  it,  and  let  her  go  on  to  the  win- 
dow. "No,"  he  said  to  himself,  "not  the  cold 
extreme,  whatever  else  it  may  be.  So  much 
the  worse  for  her,  and  for  all  belonging  to 
her." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause.  Once  more 
the  dripping  rustle  of  the  rain  and  the  steady 
ticking  of  the  clock  filled  up  the  gap  of  si- 
lence. Mr.  Pendril  put  the  Instructions  back 
in  his  pocket,  considered  a  little,  and,  turning 
toward  Norah  and  Miss  Garth,  recalled  their 
attention  to  the  present  and  pressing  necessi- 
ties of  the  time. 

"  Our  consultation  has  been  needlessly  pro- 
longed," he  said,  "  by  painful  references  to  the 
past.  We  shall  be  better  employed  in  settling 
our  arrangements  for  the  future.  I  am  obliged 
to  return  to  town  this  evening.  Pray  let  me 
hear  how  I  caTi  best  assist  you ;  pray  tell  me 
what  trouble  and  what  responsibility  I  can 
take  off  your  hands." 

For  tiie  moment  neither  Norah  nor  Miss 
Garth  seemed  to  be  ca]iable  of  answering 
him.  Magdalen's  reception  of  the  news  which 
annihilated  the  marriage  prospect  that  her 
father's  own  lips  had  placed  before  her  not 
a  month  since  had  bewildered  and  dismayed 
them  alike.  Tliey  had  simimoncd  their  cour- 
age to  meet  the  shock  of  her  passionate  grief, 
or  to  face  the  harder  trial  of  witnessing  her 
speechless  despair.  But  they  were  not  pre- 
pared for  her  invincible  resolution  to  read  the 
Instructions;  for  the  terrible  questions  which 
.she  had  put  to  the  lawyer ;  for  her  immovable 
determination  to  fix  all  the  circumstances  in 
her  mind  under  which  Michael  Vanstone's 
decision  had  been  pronounced.  There  she 
stood  at  the  window,  an  unfathomable  mys- 
tery to  the  sister  who  had  never  been  parted 
from  her,  to  the  governess  who  had  trained 
her  from  a   child.     Mils   Garth  remembered 


60 


NO  NAME. 


the  dark  doubts  which  had  crossed  her  mind 
on  the  day  when  she  and  Magdalen  had  met 
in  tlie  garden.  Norah  looked  forward  to  the 
coming  time  with  the  first  serious  dread  of  it 
on  her  sister's  account  which  she  had  felt  yet. 
Both  had  hitherto  remained  passive,  in  despair 
■  of  knowing  what  to  do.  Both  were  now  si- 
lent, in  despair  of  knowing  what  to  say. 

Mr.  Pendril  patiently  and  kindly  helped 
them  by  returning  to  the  subject  of  their  fu- 
ture plans  for  the  second  time. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  press  any  business  matters  on 
your  attention,"  he  said,  "  when  you  are  neces- 
sarily unfitted  to  deal  with  them.  But  I  must 
take  my  instructions  back  to  London  with  me 
to-night.  With  reference,  in  the  first  place, 
to  the  disgraceful  pecuniary  ofl^er  to  which  I 
have  already  alluded.  The  younger  Miss  Van- 
stone  having  read  the  Instructions,  needs  no 
further  information  from  my  lips.  The  elder 
will,  I  hope,  excuse  me  if  I  tell  her  (what  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  tell  her  but  that  it  is 
a  matter  of  necessity)  that  Mr.  Michael  Van- 
stone's  provision  for  his  brothers  children 
begins  and  ends  with  an  offer  to  each  of  them 
of  one  hundred  pounds." 

Norah'si  face  crimsoned  with  indignation. 
She  started  to  her  feet,  as  if  Michael  Vanstone 
had  been  present  in  the  room  and  had  per- 
sonally insulted  her. 

"  I  see,"  said  the  lawyer,  wishing  to  spare 
her,  "  1  may  tell  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  you 
refuse  the  money." 

"  Tell  him,"  she  broke  out,  passionately, 
"  if  I  was  starving  by  the  road-side  I  wouldn't 
touch  a  farthing  of  it !" 

"  Shall  I  notify  your  refusal  also  ?"  asked^ 
Mr.  Pendril,  speaking  to  Magdalen  next. 

She  turned  round  from  the  window,  but 
kept  her  face  in  shadow  by  standing  close 
against  it  with  her  back  to  the  light. 

"  Tell  him,  on  my  part,"  she  said,  "  to  think 
again  before  he  starts  me  in  life  with  a  hun- 
dred pounds.  I  will  give  him  time  to  think." 
She  spoke  those  strange  words  with  a  marked 
empliasis,  and,  turning  back  quickly  to  the 
window,  hid  her  face  from  the  observation  of 
every  one  in  the  room. 

"  You  both  refuse  the  offer,"  said  Mr.  Pen- 
dril, taking  out  his  pencil  and  making  his 
professional  note  of  the  decision.  As  he  shut 
up  his  pocket-book  he  glanced  toward  Mag- 
dalen doubtfully.  She  had  roused  in  him  the 
latent  distrust  which  is  a  lawyer's  second  na- 
ture :  he  had  his  suspicions  of  her  looks  ;  he 
had  his  suspicions  of  her  language.  Her  sis- 
ter seemed  to  have  more  influence  over  her 
than  Miss  Garth.  He  resolved  to  speak  pri- 
vately to  her  sister  before  he  went  away. 

While  the  Idea  was  passing  through  his 
mind  his  attention  was  claimed  by  another 
question  from  Magdalen. 

^'  Is  he  an  old  man  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly, 
without  turning  round  from  the  window. 

"  If  you  mean  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone,  he  is 
neventy-five  or  seventy-six  years  of  age." 


"  You  spoke  of  his  son  a  little  while  since. 
Has  he  any  other  sons  or  daughters  T' 

"  None." 

".Do  you  know  anything  of  his  wife  ?" 

"  She  has  been  dead  for  many  years." 

There  was  a  pause.  "  Wliy  do  you  ask 
these  questions  ?"  said  Norah. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  Magdalen, 
quietljr ;  "  I  won't  ask  any  more." 

For  the  third  time  Mr.  Pendril  returned  to 
the  business  of  the  interview. 

"  The  servants  must  not  be  forgotten,"  he 
said.  "  Ihey  must  be  settled  with  and  dis- 
charged :  I  will  give  them  the  necessary  ex- 
planation before  I  leave.  As  for  the  house, 
no  questions  connected  with  it  need  trouble 
you.  The  carriages  and  horses,  the  furniture 
and  plate,  and  so  on,  must  simply  be  left  on 
the  premises  to  await  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's 
further  orders.  But  any  possessions,  Miss 
Vanstone,  personally  belonging  to  you  or  to 
your  sister — your  jewelry  and  dresses,  and 
any  little  presents  which  may  have  been  made 
to  you  —  are  entirely  at  your  own  disposal. 
With  regard  to  the  time  of  your  departure,  I 
understand  that  a  month  or  more  will  elapse 
before  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  can  leave  Zu- 
rich ;  and  I  am  sure  I  only  do  his  solicitor 
justice  in  saying — " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Pendril,"  interposed  No- 
rah; "I  think  I  understand,  from  what  you 
have  just  said,  that  oui'  house  and  everything 
in  it  belongs  to—;-?  "  She  stopped,  as  if  the 
mere  utterance  of  the  man's  name  was  abhor- 
rent to  her. 

"  To  Michael  Vanstone,"  said  Mr.  Pendril. 
"  The  house  goes  to  him  with  the  rest  of  the 
property." 

"  Then  I,  for  one,  am  ready  to  leave  it  to- 
morrow !" 

Magdalen  started  at  the  window  as  her 
sister  spoke,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Clare  with  the 
first  open  signs  of  anxiety  and  alarm  which 
she  had  shown  yet. 

''  Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  she  Avhispered, 
stooping  over  the  old  man  with  a  sudden 
humility  of  look,  and  a  sudden  nervousness  of 
manner.  "  I  can't  go  without  seeing  Frank 
first  !" 

"  You  shall  see  him,"  replied  Mr.  Clare. 
"  I  am  here  to  speak  to  you  about  it  when  the 
business  is  done." 

"  It  is  quite  unnecessary  to  hurry  your  de- 
parture as  you  propose,"  continued  Mr.  Pen- 
dril, addressing  Norah.  "  I  can  safely  assure 
you  that  a  week  hence  will  be  time  enough." 

"  If  this  is  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  house," 
repeated  Norah,  "  I  am  ready  to  leave  It  to- 
morrow." 

She  Impatiently  quitted  her  chair  and  seated 
herself  farther  away  on  the  softi.  As  she  laid 
her  hand  on  the  back  of  it  her  face  changed. 
There,  at  the  head  of  the  sofa,  were  the 
cushions  which  had  supported  her  mother 
when  she  lay  down  for  the  last  time  to  repose. 
There,  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  was  the  clumsy, 


NO  NAME. 


61 


old-fasliionerl  arm-chair  whicli  had  beon  lior 
father's 'favorite  seat  on  rainy  dnys,  when  she 
and  her  si)<ter  used  to  amnse  him  at  the  piano 
opposite  by  phTying  his  fiivorite  tunes.  A 
heavy  sigh,  which  she  tried  vainly  to  repress, 
burst  from  her  hps.  "  Oh,"  slie  tlionght,  "  I 
had  forgotten  these  ohl  friends!  IIow  shall 
we  part  from  them  when  the  time  comes!" 

"  Mav  I  inquire,  Miss  Vanstone,  wiiether 
yon  and  your  sister  liave  formed  any  definite 
plans  for-  the  future  V"  asked  Mr.  Pendril. 
"  Have  you  thought  of  any  place  of  resi- 
dence ?" 

"I  may  take  it  on  myself.  Sir,"  said  IMiss 
Garth,  "  to  answer  your  question  for  them. 
When  they  leave  tliis  house  they  leave  it  with 
me.  j\Iy  home  is  their  home,  and  my  bread 
is  their  bread.  Their  parents  honored  me, 
trusted  me,  and  loved  me.  For  twelve  happy 
years  they  ne^er  let  me  remember  that  I  was 
their  go\  erness,  they  only  let  mc  know  myself 
as  their  companion  and  friend.  ]\Iy  memory 
of  them  is  the  memory  of  unvarying  gentle- 
ness and  generosity,  and  my  lite  shall  pay 
till-  debt  of  my  gratitude  to  their  orphan 
children." 

Norah  rose  hastily  from  the  sofa ;  ]\Iagdalen 
imi)etuously  left  th(!  window.  For  once  there 
was  no  contrast  in  the  conduct  of  the  sisters. 
For  once  the  same  inqmlse  moved  their  hearts, 
the  same  earnest  feeling  inspired  tlieir  woi-ds. 
Miss  Gartii  waited  until  the  first  outburst  of 
emotion  had  j)a9sed  away,  then  rose,  and, 
taking  Norah  and  ]\Iagdalen  eacli  by  the 
hand,  addressed  herself  to  l\Ir.  Pendril  and 
Mr.  Clare.  She  spoke  with  perfect  self-pos- 
session ;  strong  in  her  artless  unconsciousness 
of  her  own  good  action. 

"  Even  such  a  trifle  as  my  own  story,"  she 
said,  "  is  of  some  importance  at  such  a  mo- 
ment as  this.  I  wish  you  both,  gentlemen,  to 
understand  that  I  an\  not  promisin*  more  to 
the  daughters  of  your  old  friend  than  I  can 
perform.  WhcMi  f  first  came  to  this  house  I 
entered  it  under  such  independent  circinn- 
stanccs  as  are  not  common  in  the  lives  of 
governesses.  In  my  younger  days  I  Avas  asso- 
ciated in  teaching  with  my  elder  sister :  we 
established  a  sciiool  in  J^ondon,  which  grew  to 
be  a  large  and  prosperous  one.  I  only  left  it 
and  became  a  ]irivatc  governess  because  the 
heavy  responsibility  of  the  school  was  more 
than  my  strength  could  bear.  I  left  my  share 
in  the  profits  untouched,  and  I  possess  a  pecu- 
niary interest  in  our  establisiiment  to  this 
day.  That  is  my  st6ry  in  few  words.  When 
we  leave  this  liousc  I  propose  that  we  shall 
go  back  to  the  school  in  London,  which  is 
still  prosperously  directed  by  my  elder  sister. 
We  can  live  there  as  quietly  as  we  please 
until  time  has  helped  us  to  bear  our  afllietion 
better  than  we  can  bear  it  now.  If  Norah's 
and  Magdalen's  altered  prospects  oblige  them 
to  earn  their  own  independence,  I  can  helj) 
them  to  earn  it  as  a  gentleman's  daughters 
should.     The  best  families  in  this  land  are 


glad  to  ask  my  sister's  advice  where  the  inter- 
ests of  their  children's  home  training  are  con- 
cerned ;  and  I  answer  beforehand  for  her 
hearty  desire  to  serve  Mr.  Vanstone's  daugh- 
ters, as  I  answer  for  my  own.  That  is  the 
future  which  my  gratitude  to  their  fatlier  and 
mother,  and  my  love  for  themselves,  now 
offers  to  them.  If  you  think  my  proposal, 
gentlemen,  a  fit  and  fair  proposal  — and  I  see 
in  your  faces  that  you  do  —  let  us  not  make 
the  hard  necessities  of  our  position  harder 
still  by  any  useless  delay  in  meeting  th(rm 
at  once.  l.,et  us  do  what  we  must  (lo ;  let 
us  act  on  Norah's  decision,  and  leave  this 
house  to-nu)rrow.  You  mentioned  t\w  ser- 
vants just  now,  Mr.  Pendril:  I  am  ready  to 
call  them  together  in  the  next  room,  and  to 
assist  you  in  the  settlement  of  their  claims 
whenever  you  ]ilease." 

Without  waiting  for  the  lawyer's  answer, 
without  leaving  the  sisters  time  to  realize  their 
own  terrible  si; nation,  she  moved  at  once 
toward  the  door.  It  was  her  wise  resolution 
to  meet  the  coining  trial  by  doing  much  and 
saying  little.  Before  she  could  leave  the  room 
Mr.  Clare  followed  and  stopped  her  on  the 
threshold. 

"  I  never  envied  a  woman's  feelings  before," 
said  the  old  man.  "  It  may  surprise  you  to 
hear  it!  but  I  envy  yours.  Wait!  I  have 
something  more  to  say.  There  is  an  obstacle 
still  left  —  the  everlasting  obstacle  of  Frank. 
Help  mc  to  sweep  him  off.  Take  the  elder 
sister  along  with  you  and  the  lawyer,  and 
leave  me  here  to  have  it  out  with  the  younger. 
I  want  to  see  what  metal  she 's  really  made  of" 

AVhile  Mr.  Clare  was  addressing  these  words 
to  i\Iiss  Garth  Mv.  Pendril  had  iaken  the  op- 
portunity of  .speaking  to  Norah.  "  Before  I 
go  back  to  town,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  to 
have  a  word  with  }ou  in  private.  From  what 
has  passed  to-day.  Miss  Vatistone,  I  have 
formed  a  very  high  o[.inion  of  your  discretion  ; 
and,  as  an  old  friend  of  your  father's,  1  want 
to  take  the  freedom  of  .«pcaking  to  you  about 
your  sister." 

Before  Norah  could  answer  she  was  sum- 
moned, in  compliance  with  Mr.  Clare's  re- 
(piest,  to  the  conference  with  the  servants. 
Mr.  Pendril  followed  Miss  Garth  as  a  matter 
of  course.  When  the  three  were  out  in  the 
hall  Mr.  Clare  re-entered  the  room,  closed  the 
door,  and  signed  peremptorily  to  Magdalen  to 
take  a  chair. 

She  obeyed  him  in  silence.  He  took  a  turn 
up  and  down  the  room  with  his  hands  in  the 
side  j)o:kets  of  the  long,  loose,  shapeless  coat 
whicii  lie  habitually  wore. 

'•  How  old  are  you  ?"  he  said,  stopping  sud- 
denly, and  speaking  to  her  with  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  room  between  them. 

"  I  was  eighteen  last  birthday,"  she  answer- 
ed, humbly,  without  looking  up  at  him. 

"  You  have  shown  extraordinar}-  courage  for 
a  girl  of  eighteen.  Have  you  got  any  of  that 
courage  letl  ?" 


62 


NO  NAME. 


She  clasped  her  hands  together  and  wrung 
them  hard.  A  few  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes 
and  rolled  slowly  over  her  cheeks. 

"  I  can't  give  Frank  up/'  she  said,  faintly. 
"  You  don't  care  for  me,  I  know ;  but  you 
used  to  (jare  for  my  father.  Will  you  try  to 
be  kind  to  me  for  my  father's  sake  ?" 

The  last  words  died  away  in  a  whisper ;  she 
could  say  no  more.  Never  had  she  felt  the 
illimitable  power  Avhich  a  woman's  love  pos- 
sesses of  absorbing  into  itself  every  other 
event,  every  other  joy  or  sorrow  of  her  life, 
as  she  felt  it  then.  Never  had  she  so  tenderly 
associated  Frank  with  the  memory  of  her  lost 
parents  as  at  that  moment.  Never  had  the 
impenetrable  atmospliere  of  illusion  through 
which  women  behold  the  man  of  their  choice 
— the  atmosphere  which  had  blinded  her  to  all 
that  was  weak,  selfish,  and  mean  in  Frank's 
nature  —  surrounded  him  with  a  brighter  halo 
than  now,  when  she  was  pleading  with  the 
father  for  the  possession  of  the  son.  "  Oh, 
don't  ask  me  to  give  him  up  !"  she  said,  trying 
to  take  courage,  and  shuddering  from  head  to 
foot.  In  the  next  instant  she  flew  to  the  op- 
posite e.xtreme,  with  the  suddenness  of  a  flash 
of  lightning.  "  I  Avon't  give  him  up !"'  she 
burst  out  violently.  "  No  !  not  if  a  thousand 
fathers  ask  me !" 

"  I  am  one  father,"  said  Mr.  Clare.  "  And 
I  don't  ask  you." 

In  the  first  astonishment  and  delight  of 
hearing  those  unexpected  words  she  started  to 
her  feet,  crossed  the  room,  and  tried  to  throw 
her  arms  round  his  neck.  She  might  as  well 
have  attempted  to  move  the  house  from  its 
I'ouudations.  He  took  her  by  the  shoulders 
and  put  her  back  in  her  chair.  His  inexo- 
rable eyes  looked  her  into  submission ;  and 
his  lean  forefinger  shook  at  her  warningly,  as 
if  he  was  quieting  a  fractious  child. 

"  Hug  Frank,"  he  said  ;  "  don't  hug  me.  I 
haven't  done  with  you  yet ;  when  I  have,  you 
may  shake  hands  with  me,  if  you  like.  Wait, 
and  compose  yourself" 

He  lel't  her.  His  hands  went  back  into  his 
pockets,  and  his  monotonous  march  up  and 
down  the  room  began  again. 

"  Ready  Y'  he  asked,  stopping  short  after  a 
while.  She  tried  to  answer.  "  Take  two 
minutes  more,"  he  said,  and  resumed  his  walk 
with  the  regularity  of  clock-work.  "  These 
are  the  creatures,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  into  whose  keeping  men,  otherwise  sensible, 
give  the  happiness  of  their  lives.  Is  there 
any  other  object  in  creation,  I  wonder,  which 
answers  its  end  as  badly  as  a  woman  does  ?" 

He  stopped  before  her  once  more.  Her 
breathing  was  easier;  the  dark  flush  on  her 
face  was  dying  out  again. 

"Ready?"  he  repeated.  "Yes;  ready  at 
last.  Listen  to  me  ;  and  let  's  get  it  over.  I 
don't  ask  you  to  give  Frank  up.  I  ask  you  to 
wait." 

"  I  will  wait,"  she  said.  .  "  Patiently,  will- 
ingly-" 


"  Will  vou  make  Frank  wait?" 

"Yes."" 

"  Will  you  send  him  to  China  ?" 

Her  head  drooped  on  her  bosom,  and  she 
clasped'her  hands  again  in  silence.  Mr.  Clare 
saw  where  the  difficulty  lay,  and  marched 
straight  up  to  it  on  the  spot. 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  enter  into  your  feelings 
for  Frank,  or  Frank's  for  you,"  he  said.  "  The 
subject  doesn't  interest  me.  But  I  do  pretend 
to  state  two  plain  truths.  It  is  one  plain  truth 
that  you  can't  be  married  till  you  have  money 
enough  to  pay  for  the  roof  that  shelters  you, 
the  clothes  that  cover  you,  and  the  victuals 
you  eat.  It  is  another  plain  truth  that  you 
can't  find  the  money;  that  I  can't  find  the 
money  ;  and  that  Frank's  only  chance  of  find- 
ing it  is  going  to  China.  If  I  tell  him  to  go, 
he  '11  sit  in  a  corner  and  cry.  If  I  insist,  he 
will  say  yes,  and  deceive  me.  If  I  go  a  step 
further,  and  see  him  on  board  ship  with  my 
own  eyes,  he  will  slip  off  in  the  pilot's  boat, 
and  sneak  back  secretly  to  you.  That  's  his 
disposition." 

"No!"  said  Magdalen.  "  It  's  not  his  dis- 
position—  it  's  his  love  for  Me." 

"  Call  it  what  you  like,"  retorted  Mr.  Clare. 
"  Sneak,  or  Svveet-hcart  —  he  's  too  slippery, 
in  cither  capacity,  for  my  fingers  to  hold  him. 
My  shutting  the  door  won't  keep  him  from 
coming  back.  Your  shutting  the  door  will. 
Have  you  the  courage  to  shut  it  ?  Are  you 
fond  enough  of  him  not  to  stand  in  his  light  ?" 

"  Fond!     I  would  die  for  him !" 

"  Will  j^ou  send  him  to  China  ?" 

She  sighed  bitterly. 

"  Have  a  little  pity  for  me,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  lost  my  father;  I  have  lost  my  mother;  I 
have  lost  my  fortune  —  and  now  I  am  to  lose 
Frank.  You  don't  like  women,  I  know;  but 
try  to  help  me  with  a  little  pity.  I  don't  say 
it  's  not  for  his  own  interests  to  send  him  to 
China;  I  only  say  it  's  hard — very,  very  hard 
on  me." 

Mr.  Clare  had  been  deaf  to  her  violence, 
insensible  to  her  caresses,  blind  to  her  tears; 
but  under  the  tough  integument  of  his  philos- 
ophy he  had  a  heart,  and  it  answered  that 
hopeless  appeal — it  felt  those  touching  words. 

"  I  don't  deny  that  your  case  is  a  hard  one," 
he  said.  "  I  don't  want  to  make  it  harder :  I 
only  ask  you  to  do,  in  Frank's  interests,  what 
Frank  is  too  weak  to  do  for  himself.  It  's  no 
fault  of  yours — it  's  no  fault  of  mine  ;  but  it's 
not  the  less  true  that  the  fortune  you  Ttere 
to  have  brought  him  has  changed  owners." 

She  suddenly  looked  up,  with  a  furtive  light 
in  her  eyes,  with  a  threatening  smile  on  her 
lips. 

"  It  may  change  owners  again,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Clare  saw  the  alteration  in  her  expres- 
sion, and  heard  the  tones  of  her  voice.  But 
the  words  were  spoken  low  —  spoken  as  if  to 
herself;  they  failed  to  reach  him  across  the 
breadth  of  the  room.  He  stopped  instantly 
in  his  walk,  and  asked  what  she  had  said. 


NO  NAME. 


63 


"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  turning  her  head 
away  toward  the  window  and  looking  out  me- 
chanic-ally at  the  falling  rain.  "  Only  my 
own  thoughts." 

Mr.  Clare  resumed  his  walk,  and  returned 
to  his  subject. 

"  It  's  your  interest,"  he  went  on,  "  as  well 
as  Frank's  interest,  that  he  should  go.  He 
may  make  money  enougli  to  marry  you  in 
Cliina  ;  he  can't  make  it  here.  If  he  stops  at 
home,  he  '11  be  the  ruin  of  both  of  you.  He 
will  shut  his  eyes  to  every  consideration  of 
pi-udence.  and  pester  you  to  marry  him ;  and 
when  he  has  carried  his  point,  he  Avill  be  the 
first  to  turn  round  afterward  and  complain 
that  you  're  a  burden  on  him.  Hear  me  out ! 
You  're  in  love  with  Frank :  I  'ra  not,  and  I 
know  him.  Put  you  two  together  often 
enough ;  give  him  time  enough  to  liug,  cry, 
pester,  and  plead,  and  I  '11  tell  you  what  the 
end  will  i)e  —  you  "11  marry  him." 

He  liad  toucheil  the  right  string  at  last.  It 
rung  back  in  answer  before  he  could  add 
another  word. 

"  You  don't  know  me,"  she  said  firmly. 
"  You  don't  know  what  I  can  suffer  for  Frank's 
sake.  He  shall  never  marry  me  till  I  can  be 
what  my  father  said  I  should  be  —  the  making 
of  his  fortune.  He  shall  take  no  burden  when 
he  takes  me,  I  ])romise  you  that!  I  '11  be  the 
good  angel  of  Frank's  life  ;  I  '11  not  go  a  pen- 
niless girl  to  him  and  drag  him  down."  She 
abruptly  left  her  seat,  advanced  a  few  steps 
toward  Mr.  Clare,  and  stopped  in  the  middle 
of  the  room.  Her  arms  lell  helplessly  on 
either  side  of  her,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 
"  He  shall  go !"  she  said  ;  "  if  my  heart  breaks 
in  doing  it,  I  '11  tell  him  to-morrow  that  we 
must  say  Good-by  !" 

!Mr.  Clare  at  once  advanced  to  meet  her, 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  '11  help  you,  he  said.  "  Frank  shall  hear 
every  word  that  has  passed  between  us.  When 
he  comes  to-morrow  he  shall  know  beforehand 
that  he  comes  to  say  good-by."' 

She  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own  — hesi- 
tated—  looked  at  him  —  and  pressed  it  to  her 
bosom.  "  May  I  ask  a  favor  of  you  before  you 
go  V"'  she  said,  timidly.  He  tried  to  take  his 
hand  from  her;  but  she  knew  her  advantage, 
and  hell]  it  fast.  "  Suppose  there  should  be 
some  change   for  the  better?"  she  went  on. 


"  Suppose  I  could  come  to  Frank,  as  my  father 
said  I  should  come  to  him — "?" 

Before  she  could  complete  the  (piestion  Mr. 
Clare  made  a  second  effort,  and  withdrew  his 
hand.  ''  As  your  father  said  you  should  come  to 
him  '?■'  he  repeated,  looking  at  her  attentively. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  Strange  tilings  hap- 
pen sometimes.  If  strange  things  happen  to 
)iie,  will  you  let  Frank  come  back  before  the 
five  years  are  out":"' 

Wiiat  did  she  mean?  Was  she  clinging 
desperately  to  the  hope  of  melting  Michael 
Vanstone's  heart  ?  Mr.  Clare  could  draw  no 
other  conclusion  from  what  she  had  just  said 
to  him.  At  the  beginning  of  tiie  interview 
he  would  have  roughly  dispelled  her  delusion. 
At  the  end  of  the  interview  he  left  her  com- 
passionately in  possession  of  it. 

"  You  are  hoping  against  all  hope,"  he  said, 
"but  if  it  gives  you  courage,  hope  on.     If  this 


impo.>sible  good  fortune  of  yours  ever  happens. 

In  the 
meantime — " 


tell  me,  and  Frank  shall  come  back. 


"In  the  meantime,"  she  interposed,  sadly, 
"you  have  my  j)romise." 

Once  more  Mr.  Clare's  sharp  eyes  searched 
her  face  attentively. 

"  I  will  trust  your  promise,"  he  said.  "  You 
shall  see  Frank  to-morrow." 

She  went  back  thoughtfully  to  her  chair, 
and  sat  down  again  in  silence.  Mr.  Clare 
made  for  the  door  before  any  formal  leave- 
taking  could  pass  between  them.  "Deep!" 
lie  thought  to  himself  as  he  looked  back  at 
her  before  he  went  out,  "  only  eighteen — and 
too  deep  for  my  sounding!" 

In  the  hall  he  found  Norah,  waiting  an.\- 
iously  to  hear  what  had  happened. 

"Is  it  all  over?"  she  asked.  "Does  Frank 
go  to  China?" 

"Be  careful  how  yoH  manage  that  sister  of 
yours,"  said  Mr.  Clare,  without  noticing  the 
question.  "  She  has  one  great  misf'ortune  to 
contend  with  :  s!ie  's  not  made  lor  the  ordinary 
jog-trot  of  a  woman's  life.  I  don't  say  I  can 
see  straight  to  the  end  of  the  good  or  the  evil 
in  her — I  only  warn  you  her  future  will  be  no 
common  one." 

An  hour  later  jNIr.  Pendril  left  the  house, 
and  by  that  night's  post  Miss  (iarth  dispatched 
a  letter  to  her  sister  in  London. 


THK   END  OF  TIIE   FIRST   SCKNE. 


BETWEEN    THE    SCENES. 


krom  norah   vavstomk  to  mr.   i'enbuii.. 

'•  Wkstmorelaxd  House,  Ken.si.noto.x, 
August  14.  1846. 

"Dear  Mr.  Fkndril  —  The  date  of  this 


hard  partings  is  over.     We  have  left  Combe- 
Raven  ;  we  have  said  farewell  to  home. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  seriously  of  what 
you  said  to  me  on  Wednesday,  before  you 
went  back  to  town.  I  entinly  agree  with 
you  that  Miss  Garth  is  more  shaken  by  all  she 


letter  will  show  you   that   the  last  of  many  '  has  gone   through  for  our  sakes  than  she  is 


64 


NO  NAME. 


herself  willing  to  admit,  and  that  it  is  my 
duty  for  the  future  to  spare  her  all  the  anxiety 
that  I  can  on  the  subject  of  my  sister  and 
myself.  This  is  very  little  to  do  for  our  dear- 
est friend,  for  our  second  mother.  Such  as  it 
is,  I  will  do  it  with  all  ray  heart. 

"  But  forgive  me  for  saying  that  I  am  as 
far  as  ever  from  agretiing  with  you  about 
Magdqlen.  I  am  so  sensible,  in  our  helpless 
position,  of  the  importance  of  your  assist- 
^i^Q(. — so  anxious  to  be  worthy  of  the  interest 
of  my  father's  trusted  adviser  and  oldest 
friend"^,  that  I  feel  really  and  truly  disap- 
pointed with  myself  for  differing  with  you  — 
and  yet  I  do  differ.  Magdalen  is  very  strange, 
very  unaccountable,  to  those  who  don't  know 
her"  intimately.  I  can  understand  that  she 
has  innocently  misled  you  ;  and  that  she  has 
presented  herself,  perhaps,  under  her  least 
favorable  aspect.  But  that  the  clew  to  her 
lan'i-uaoe  and  her  conduct  on  Wednesday  last 
is  to  be  found  in  such  a  feeling  toward  the 
man  who  has  ruined  us  as  the  feelings  at  which 
you  hinted  is  what  I  can  not  and  will  not  be- 
lieve of  my  sister.  If  you  knew,  as  I  do, 
what  a  noble  nature  she  has,  you  would  not 
be  surprised  at  this  obstinate  resistance  of 
mine  to  your  opinion.  Will  you  try  to  alter 
it?  I  don't  mind  what  Mr.  Clare  says:  he 
believes  in  nothing.  But  I  attach  a  very  seri- 
ous importance  to  what  you  say  ;  and,  kind  as 
I  know  your  motives  to  be,  it  distresses  me  to 
think  you  are  doing  Magdalen  an  injustice. 

"  Ilavin"  relieved  my  mind  of  this  conces- 
sion. I  may  now  come  to  the  proper  objeet  of 
my  letter.'  I  promised,  if  you  could  not  find 
leisure  to  visit  us  to-day,  to  write  and  tell  you 
all  that  happ-ened  after  you  left  us.  The  day 
has  passed  without  our  seeing  you.  So  I  open 
my  writing-case  and  perform  my  promise. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  three  of  the  wo- 
men-servants—  tlie  house-maid,  the  kitchen- 
maid,  and  even  our  own  mai<i  (to  whom  I  am 
sure  we  have  always  been  kind) — tpok  advaii- 
taue  of  your  having  paid  them  th-'ir  wages  to 
pat'k  up  and  go  as  soon  as  your  back  was 
turned.  They  came  to  say  good-by  with  as 
much  ceremony,  and  as  little  feeling,  as  if 
they  Avere  leaving  the  house  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  The  cook,  for  all  her  violent 
temper,  behaved  very  differently  :  she  sent 
up  a  message  to  say  that  slie  would  stop  and 
help  us  to  °he  last.  And  Thomas  (who  has 
never  yet  been  in  any  other  place  than  ours) 
spoke  so  gratefully  of"  my  dear  father's  unva- 
rying kindness,  aiid  asked  so  anxiously  to  be 
allowed  to  go  on  serving  us  while  his  little 
savings  lasted,  that  Magdalen  and  I  forgot  all 
formal  consiilerations,  and  both  shook  iiands 
wit!)  him.  The  poor  lad  went  out  of  the  room 
crying,  I  wish  him  well ;  I  hope  he  will  find 
a  kind  master  and  a  good  place. 

"  The  long,  quiet,  rainy  evening  out  of  doors 
—  our  last  evening  at  Combe-Raven  —  was  a 
sad  trial  to  us.  I  think  winter-time  v/ould 
have  weighed  less  on  our  spirits :  the  drawn 


curtains,  and  the  bright  lamps,  and  the  com- 
panionable firc.'s  would  have  helped  us.  We 
were  only  five  in  the  house  altogether  —  after 
having  once  been  so  many !  I  can't  tell  yoii 
how  dreary  the  gra}'  dayliglit  looked,  toward 
seven  o'clock,  inthe  lonely  rooms  and  on  the 
noiseless  staircase.  Surely  the  prejudice  in 
favor  of  long  summer  evenings  is  the  prejudice 
of  happv  p'eople  ?  We  did  our  best,  ^  We 
kept  ourselves  employed,  and  Miss  Garth 
helped  us.  The  prospect  of  preparingfor  our 
departure,  which  had  seemed  so  dreailful  ear- 
lier in  the  day,  altered  into  the  prospect  of  a 
refu"^e  from  ourselves  as  the  evening  came  on. 
We 'each  tried  at  first  to  pack  u])  in  our  own 
rooms,  but  the  loneliness  was  more  tlian  wo 
could  bear.  We  carried  all  our  possessions 
down  stairs,  and  heaped  them  on  the  large 
dining-table,  and  so  made  our  preparations 
to'i-ether,  in  the  same  room.  I  am  sure  we 
have  taken  nothing  away  which  does  not  prop- 
erly belong  to  us. 

"  Having  already  mentioned  to  you  my  own 
conviction"' that  Magdalen  was  not  herself 
v.'hen  you  saw  hereon  Wednesday,  I  feel 
tempted  to  stop  here,  and  give  you  an  instance 
in  proof  of  what  I  say.  The  little  circum- 
stance happened  on  Wednesday  night,  just 
before  we  went  up  to  our  rooms. 

"  After  we  had  packed  our  dresses  and  our 
birthday  presents,  our  books  and  our  music, 
we  began  to  sort  our  letters,  which  had  got 
eonfused  from  being  all  placed  on  the  table 
together.  Some  of  my  letters  were  mixed 
wilh  Magdalen's,  and  some  of  hers  with  mine. 
Among  tiiese  last  I  found  a  card,  which  had 
been  given  to  my  sister  early  in  the  year  by  an 
actor ''who  managed  an  amateur  theatrical 
performance  in  which  she  took  a  part.  The 
man  had  given  her  the  card,  containing  his 
name  and  address,  in  the  belief  that  she  would 
be  invited  to  many  more  amusements  of  the 
same  kind,  and  in  the  hope  that  she  would 
recommend  him,  as  a  superintendent  on  future 
occasions.  I  only  relate  these  trifling  particu- 
lars to  show  you  how  little  worth  keeping  such 
a  card  could'be,  in  such  circumstances  as  ours. 
Naturally  enough,  I  threw  it  away  from  me 
across  the  table,  meaning  to  throw  it  on  the 
floor.  It  fell  short,  close  to  the  place  in  which 
Maf^dalen  was  sitting.  She  took  it  up,  looked 
at  it,  and  immediately  declared  that  she  would 
not  have  had  this  perfectly  worthless  thing 
destroyed  for  the  world.  She  was  almost 
anory  with  me  for  having  thrown  it  away  ; 
ahnost  angry  with  Miss  Garth  for  asking  what 
she  could  possibly  want  with  it !  Could  there 
be  anv  plainer  proof  than  this  that  our  misfor- 
tunes—falling so  much  more  heavily  on  her 
than  on  me— have  quite  unhinged  her.  and 
worn  her  out!  Surely  her  words  and  looks 
are  not  to  be  interpreted  against  her,  when 
she  is  not  sufficiently  mistress  of  herself  to  ex- 
ert her  natural  judgment— when  she  shows  the 
unreasonable  petulance  of  a  child  on  a  ques- 
tion which  is  not  of  the  slightest  importance. 


NO  NAME. 


C5 


"  A  little  after  eleven  we  went  up  stairs  to 
try  if  we  could  get  some  rest. 

"  I  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  my  window 
and  looked  out.  Oh,  what  a  cruel  last  night 
it  was ;  no  moon,  no  stars ;  such  deep  dark- 
ness that  not  one  of  the  dear  familiar  objects 
in  the  garden  was  visible  when  I  looked  for 
them ;  such  deep  stillness,  that  even  my  own 
movements  about  the  room  almost  frightened 
me !  I  tried  to  lie  down  and  sleep,  but  the 
sense  of  loneliness  caine  again,  and  quite 
overpowered  me.  You  will  say  I  am  old 
enough,  at  six-and-twenty,  to  have  exerted 
more  control  over  myself.  I  hardly  know  how 
it  happened,  but  I  stole  into  Magdalen's  room, 
just  as  I  used  to  steal  into  it  years  and  years 
ago,  when  we  were  children.  She  was  not  in 
bed  ;  she  was  sitting  with  her  writing  mate- 
rials before  her,  thinking.  I  said  I  wanted 
to  be  with  her  the  last  night ;  and  she  kissed 
me,  and  told  me  to  lie  down,  and  promised 
soon  to  follow  me.  My  mind  was  a  little 
quieted,  and  I  fell  asleep.  It  was  daylight 
when  I  woke  —  and  the  first  sight  I  saw  was 
Magdalen,  still  sitting  in  the  chair,  and  still 
thinking.  She  had  never  been  to  bed ;  she 
had  never  slept  all  through  the  night. 

"  'I  shall  sleep  when  we  have  left  Combe- 
Raven,'  she  said.  'I  shall  be  better  when  it  is 
all  over,  and  I  have  bid  Frank  good-by.'  She 
had  in  her  hand  our  father's  will,  and  the  letter 
he  wrote  to  you ;  and  when  she  had  done 
speaking  she  gave  tlu'm  into  my  possession.  I 
was  the  eldest  (she  said),  and  those  last  pre- 
cious relics  ought  to  be  in  my  keeping.  I  tried 
to  propose  to  her  that  we  should  divide  them  ; 
but  she  shook  her  head.  'I  have  copied  for 
myself,'  was  her  answer,  '  all  that  he  says  of  us 
in  the  will,  and  all  that  he  says  in  the  letter.' 
She  told  me  this,  and  took  from  her  bosom 
a  tiny  white  silk  bag,  which  she  had  made 
in  the  night,  and  in  which  she  had  put  the 
extracts,  so  as  to  keep  them  always  about  her. 
'  This  tells  me  in  his  own  word.s  what  his  last 
wishes  were  for  both  of  us,'  she  said ;  '  and  this 
is  all  I  want  ibr  the  future.' 

"  These  are  tritles  to  dwell  on  ;  and  I  am 
almost  surprised  at  myself  for  not  feeling 
ashamed  to  trouble  you  with  them.  But  since 
I  have  known  what  your  early  connection  was 
with  my  father  and  mother,  I  have  learned  to 
thirtk  of  you  (and,  I  suppose,  to  write  to  you) 
as  an  old  friend.  And,  besides,  I  have  it  so 
much  at  heart  to  change  your  opinion  of  Mag- 
dalen that  I  can't  help  telling  you  the  smallest 
thin^fs  about  her  which  may,  in  my  judgment, 
end  in  making  you  think  of  her  as  1  do. 

"When  breakfast-time  came  (^on  Thursday 
morning)  we  were  surprised  to  find  a  strange 
letter  on  the  table.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  men- 
tion it  to  you,  in  case  of  any  future  necessity 
for  your  interference.  It  was  addressed  to 
Miss  Garth,  on  paper  with  the  deepest  mourn- 
ing border  round  it ;  and  the  writer  was  the 
same  man  who  followed  us  on  our  -way  home 
from   a   walk  one  day  last  spring  —  Captain 


Wragge.  His  object  appears  to  be  to  assert 
once  more  his  audacious  claim  to  a  family- 
connection  with  my  poor  mother,  under  cover 
of  a  letter  of  condolence,  which  it  is  an  inso- 
lence in  such  a  person  to  have  written  at  all. 
He  expresses  as  much  sympathy  —  on  his  dis- 
covery of  our  affliction  in  the  newspapers — aa 
if  he  had  been  really  intimate  with  us;  and  he 
begs  to  know,  in  a  postscript  (being  evidently 
in  total  ignorance  of  all  that  has  really  hap- 
pened), whether  it  is  thought  desirable  that 
he  should  be  present  among  the  other  rela- 
tives at  the  reading  of  the  will !  The  address 
he  gives,  at  which  letters  will  reach  him  for 
the  next  fortnight,  is,  'Post-office,  Birming- 
ham.' This  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you  on  the 
subject.  Both  the  letter  and  the  Avriter  seem 
to  ine  to  be  equally  unworthy  of  the  slightest 
notice  on  our  part  or  on  yours. 

"  After  breakfast  Magdalen  left  us,  and 
went  by  herself  into  the  morning-room.  The 
weather  being  still  showery,  we  had  arranged 
that  Francis  Clare  should  see  her  in  that 
room  when  he  presented  himself  to  take  hia 
leave.  I  was  up  stairs  when  he  came  ;  and  I 
remained  up  stairs  for  more  than  half  an  hour 
afterward,  sadly  anxious,  as  you  may  well 
believe,  on  Magdalen's  account. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  half-hour,  or  more,  I 
came  down  stairs.  As  I  reached  the  landing 
I  suddenly  heard  her  voice,  raised  entreat- 
ingly,  and  calling  on  him  by  his  name  —  then 
loud  sobs  —  then  a  frightful  laughing  and 
screaming,  both  together,  that  rang  through 
the  house.  I  instantly  ran  into  the  room,  and 
found  Magdalen  on  the  sofa  in  violent  hys- 
terics, and  Frank  standing  staring  at  her  with 
a  lowering,  angry  face,  biting  his  nails. 

"I  felt  so  indignant  —  without  knowing 
plainly  why,  for  I  was  ignorant  of  course  of 
what  had  passed  at  the  interview  —  that  I 
took  Mr.  Francis  Clare  by  tlie  shoulders  and 
pushed  him  out  of  the  room.  I  am  careful  to 
tell  you  how  I  acted  toward  him,  and  what  led 
to  it,  because  I  understand  that  he  is  exces- 
sively offended  with  me,  and  that  he  is  likely 
to  mention  elsewhere  what  he  calls  my  un- 
ladylike violence  toward  him.  If  he  should 
mention  it  to  you,  I  am  anxious  to  acknowl- 
edge, of  my  own  accord,  that  I  forgot  myself 
—  not,  I  hope  you  will  think,  without  some 
provocation. 

"I  pushed  him  into  the  hall,  leaving  Mag- 
dalen for  the  moment  to  Miss  Garth's  care.  . 
Instead  of  going  away  he  sat  down  sulkily  on 
one  of  the  hall  chairs.  'May  I  ask  the  reason 
of  this  extraordinary  violence  ?'  he  inquired, 
with  an  injured  look.  'No,'  I  said.  'You 
will  be  good  enough  to  imagine  the  reason  for 
yourself,  and  to  leave  us  immediately',  if  you 
please.'  lie  sat  doggedly  in  the  chair,  bitine 
his  nails,  and  considering.  'What  have  I 
done  to  be  treated  in  this  unfeeling  manner  ?' 
he  asked,  after  awhile.  '  I  can  enter  into  no 
discussion  with  you,'  I  answered  ;  '  I  can  only 
request  you  to  leare  us.     If  you  persist  in 


66 


NO  NAME. 


waiting  to  see  my  sister  again,  I  will  go  to 
the  cottage  myself  and  appeal  to  your  father.' 
He  got  up  in  a  great  hurry  at  those  words. 
'  I  have  been  infamously  used  in  this  business,' 
he  said.  '  All  the  hardships  and  the  sacrifices 
have  fallen  to  my  share.  I  'm  the  only  one 
among  you  who  has  any  heart:  all  the  rest 
are  as  hard  as  stones — Magdalen  included.  In 
one  breath  she  says  she  loves  me,  and  in 
another  she  tells  me  to  go  to  China.  What 
have  I  done  to  be  treated  with  this  heartless 
inconsistency  ?  I  'ni  consistent  myself — -I  only 
want  to  stop  at  home — and  (what's  the  conse- 
quence V)  you  're  all  against  me !'  In  that 
manner  he  grumbled  his  way  down  the  stejis, 
and  so  I  saw  the  last  of  him.  This  was  all 
that  passed  between  us.  If  he  gives  you  any 
other  account  of  it,  what  he  says  will  be  false. 
He  made  no  attempt  to  return.  An  liour 
afterward  his  father  came  alone  to  say  good- 
by.  He*  saw  Miss  Garth  and  me,  but  not 
Macdalen ;  and  he  told  us  he  would  take  the 
necessary  measures,  with  your  assistance,  tor 
having  his  son  properly  looked  after  in  Lon- 
don, and  seen  safely  on  board  the  vessel  when 
the  time  came.  It  was  a  short  visit,  and  a  sad 
leave-taking.  Even  Mr.  Clare  was  sorry, 
though  he  tried  hard  to  hide  it. 

"  We  had  barely  two  hours  after  Mr.  Clare 
had  left  vis  before  it  would  be  time  to  go.  I 
went  back  to  Magdalen,  and  found  her  quieter 
and  better,  though  terribly  pale  and  ex- 
hausted, and  oppressed,  as  I  fancied,  by 
thoughts  which  she  could  not  prevail  on 
herself  to  communicate.  She  would  tell  me 
nothing  then — she  has  told  me  nothing  since 
— of  what  passed  between  herself  and  Francis 
Clare.  When  I  spoke  of  him  angrily  (feeling 
as  I  did  that  he  had  distressed  and  tortured 
her,  when  she  ought  to  have  had  all  the 
encouragement  and  comfort  li-om  him  that 
man  could  give),  she  refused  to  hear  me :  she 
made  the  kindest  allowances  and  the  sweetest 
excuses  for  him,  and  laid  all  the  blame  of  the 
dreadful  state  in  which  I  had  found  her  en- 
tirely on  herself.  Was  I  wrong  in  telling  you 
that  she  had  a  noble  nature  ?  And  won't 
you  alter  your  opinion  when  you  read  these 
lines  V 

"  VVe  had  no  friends  to  come  and  bid  us 
good-by,  and  our  few  acquaintances  were  too 
far  irom  us — perhaps  too  indifferent  about  us — 
to  call.  We  employed  the  little  leisure  left  in 
going  over  the  house  together  for  the  last  time. 
We  took  leave  of  our  old  school-room,  our  bed- 
rooms, the  room  where  our  mother  died,  the 
little  study  where  our  father  used  to  settle  his 
accounts  and  write  his  letters — feeling  toward 
them,  in  our  forlorn  situation,  as  other  girls 
might  have  felt  at  parting  with  old  friends. 
From  the  house,  in  a  gleam  of  fine  weather, 
we  went  into  the  garden  and  gathered  our  last 
nosegay,  with  the  purpose  of  drying  the  flowers 
when  they  begin  to  wither,  and  keeping  them 
in  remembrance  of  the  happy  days  that  are 
gone.     When  we  had  said  good-by  to  the  gar- 


den there  was  only  half  an  hour  left.  We 
went  together  to  the  grave;  we  knelt  down, 
side  by  side,  in  silence,  and  kissed  the  sacred 
ground.  I  thought  my  heart  would  have 
broken  !  August  was  the  month  of  iny  moth- 
er's birthday ;  and  this  time  last  year  my  father 
and  Magdalen  and  I  were  all  three  consulting 
in  secret  what  present  we  could  make  to  sur- 
prise her  with  on  the  birthday  morning. 

"  If  you  liad  seen  how  Magdalen  suffered 
you  would  never  doubt  her  again.  I  had  to 
lake  her  from  the  last  resting  place  of  our 
father  and  mother  alinost  by  force.  Before 
we  were  out  of  the  church-yard  she  broke  from 
me  and  ran  back.  She  dropped  on  her  knees 
at  the  grave,  tore  up  from  it  passionately  a 
handful  of  grass,  and  said  something  to  herself 
at  the  same  moment  which,  though  I  followed 
her  instantly,  I  did  not  get  near  enough  to 
hear.  She  turned  on  me  in  such  a  frenzied 
manner  when  I  tried  to  raise  her  from  the 
ground — she  looked  at  me  with  such  a  fearful 
wildness  in  her  eyes  —  that  I  felt  absolutely 
terrified  at  the  sight  of  her.  To  my  relief,  tho 
paroxysm  left  her  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come. 
She  thrust  away  the  tuft  of  grass  into  the 
bosom  of  her  dress,  and  took  my  arm,  and 
hurried  with  me  out  of  the  church-yard.  I 
asked  her  why  she  had  gone  back  —  I  asked 
what  those  words  were  whicli  she  had  spoken 
at  the  grave.  '  A  promise  to  our  dead  father,' 
she  answered,  with  a  momentary  return  of  the 
wild  look  and  the  frenzied  manner  which  had 
startled  me  already.  I  was  afraid  to  agitate 
her  by  saying  more ;  I  left  all  other  questions 
to  be  asked  at  a  fitter  and  a  (juieter  time.  You 
will  understand  from  this  how  terribly  she  suf- 
fers— how  wildly  and  strangely  she  acts  under 
violent  agitation  ;  and  you  will  not  interpret 
against  her  what  she  said  or  did  when  you  saw 
her  on  Wednesday  last. 

"  We  onl}'  returned  to  the  house  in  time  to 
hasten  away  from  it  to  the  train.  Perhaps  it 
was  better  tor  us  —  better  that  we  had  only  a 
moment  lefc  to  look  back  before  the  turn  in 
the  road  hid  the  last  of  Combe-llaven  from  our 
view.  There  was  not  a  soul  we  knew  at  the 
station :  nobody  to  stare  at  us ;  nobody  to  wish 
us  good-by.  The  rain  came  on  again  as  we 
took  our  seats  in  the  train.  What  we  felt  at 
the  sight  of  the  railway  —  what  horrible  re- 
membrances it  forced  on  our  minds  of  the 
calamity  Avhich  has  made  us  fatherless.  I  can 
not  and  dare  not  tell  you.  I  have  tried  anx- 
iously not  to  write  this  letter  in  a  gloomy  tone; 
not  to  return  all  your  kindness  to  us  by  dis- 
tressing you  with  our  grief.  Perhaps  I  have 
dwelt  too  long  already  on  the  little  story  of  our 
parting  from  home  ?  I  can  only  say,  in  ex- 
cuse, that  my  heart  is  full  of  it ;  and  what  ia 
not  in  my  heart  my  pen  won't  write. 

"  We  have  been  so  short  a  time  in  our  new 
abode  that  I  have  nothing  more  to  tell  you, 
except  that  Miss  Garth's  sister  has  received  ua 
with  the  heartiest  kindness.  She  considerately 
leaves  us  to  ourselves,  until  we  are  fitter  than 


NO  NAME. 


67 


we  are  now  to  think  of  our  future  plans,  %pd 
to  arrange  as  we  best  can  for  earning  our  own 
living.  The  house  is  .so  large,  and  the  position 
of  our  rooms  has  been  so  thoughtfully  chosen, 
that  I  should  hardly  know  —  except  when  I 
hear  the  laughing  of  the  younger  girls  in  the 
garden — tliat  we  were  living  in  a  school. 

"  AVith  kindest  and  best  wishes  from  Miss 
Garth  and  my  sister,  believe  me,  dear  Mr. 
Pendril,  gratefully  yours, 

"  NoRAii  Vanstone." 

IT. 

rnoM  HISS  garth  to  mil  pendiiil. 

"  Westmobfxand  IIousb,  Kensington, 
SepUmhcr  •2.'?,  1846. 

"  My  Dear  Sir — 1  write  these  lines  in  such 
misery  of  mind  as  no  words  can  describe.  Mag- 
dalen has  deserted  us.  At  an  early  hour  this 
morning  she  secretly  left  the  house,  and  she 
has  not  been  heard  of  since. 

"  I  would  come  and  speak  to  you  personally, 
but  I  dare  not  leave  Norah.  1  must  try  to 
control  myself;  I  must  try  to  write. 

"  Nothing  liappened  yesterday  to  prepare 
mc,  or  to  prepare  Norah,  for  this  last — I  had 
almost  said  this  worst — of  all  our  afflictions. 
The  only  alteration  we  either  of  us  noticed 
in  the  unhappy  girl  was  an  alteration  ibr  the 
better  when  we  parted  for  the  night.  She 
kis.sed  me,  which  she  has  not  done  latterly ; 
and  she  burst  out  crying  when  she  emliraci.'d 
her  sister  next.  We  had  so  little  suspicion  of 
the  truth  that  we  thought  these  signs  of  re- 
newed tenderness  and  affection  a  promi.se  of 
better  tilings  for  the  future. 

"  This  morning,  at  a  little  after  eight  o'clock, 
when  licr  sister  went  into  her  room,  it  was 
em{)ty,  and  a  note  in  her  handwriting,  ad- 
drcs.sed  to  Norah,  was  lying  on  the  dressing- 
table.  I  can  not  prevail  on  Norah  to  part 
with  the  note  ;  I  can  only  send  you  the  in- 
closed copy  of  it.  You  will  see  that  it  affords 
no  clew  to  the  direction  she  has  taken. 

"  Knowing  the  value  of  time  in  this  dread- 
ful emergency,  I  examined  her  room,  and 
(with  my  sister's  help)  questioned  the  ser- 
vants immediati'ly  on  the  news  of  her  absence 
reaching  me.  Her  wardrobe  was  empty  ;  and 
all  her  boxes  but  one,  which  she  has  evidently 
taken  away  with  her,  are  empty  too.  We 
are  of  opinion  that  .she  has  privately  turned 
her  dresses  and  jewelry  into  money ;  that  she 
had  the  one  trunk  she  took  with  her  removed 
from  the  house  yesterday ;  and  that  she  left 
us  this  morning  on  foot.  The  answers  given 
by  one  of  the  servants  arc  so  unsatisfactory 
that  we  believe  the  woman  has  be«>n  bribed 
to  assist  her,  and  has  managed  all  those  ar- 
rangements for  her  (light  which  she  could  not 
have  safely  undertaken  by  herself. 

"  Of  the  immcfliate  object  with  which  she 
has  left  us  I  entertain  no  doubt. 

"I  have  reasons  (which  I  can  tell  yon  at  a 
fitter  time)  for  feeling  assured  that  she  has 
gone   away  with  the  intention  of  trying  her 


fortune  on  the  stage.  She  has  in  her  posses- 
sion the  card  of  an  actor  by  profession,  who 
superintended  an  amateur  theatrical  perform- 
ance at  Clifton,  in  which  she  took  part ;  and 
to  him  she  has  gone  to  help  her.  I  saw  the 
card  at  the  time,  and  I  know  the  actor's  name 
to  be  Huxtable.  The  address  I  can  not  call 
to  mind  quite  so  correctly,  but  I  am  almost 
sure  it  was  at  some  theatrical  place  in  Bow 
Street,  Covent  Garden.  Let  me  entreat  you 
not  to  lose  a  moment  in  sending  to  make  the 
necessary  inquiries  ;  the  first  trace  of  her  will, 
1  firmly  believe,  be  found  at  that  address. 

"  If  we  had  nothing  worse  to  dread  than 
her  attempting  to  go  on  the  stage,  I  should 
not  feel  the  distress  and  dismay  which  now 
overpower  me.  Hundreds  of  other  girls  have 
acted  as  recklessly  as  she  has  acted,  and  have 
not  ended  ill  after  all.  But  my  fears  for 
Magdalen  do  not  begin  and  end  with  the  risk 
she  IS  running  at  present. 

"  There  has  been  something  weighing  on 
her  mind  ever  since  we  h^ft  Combe-Kaven  — 
weiThinu  far  more  heavily  for  the  last  six  weeks 
than  at  first.  Until  the  period  when  Francis 
Clare  left  England,  I  am  persuaded  she  wa.s 
secretly  sustained  by  the  hope  that  he  would 
contrive  to  see  her  again.  From  the  day 
when  she  knew  that  the  measures  you  had 
taken  for  preventing  this  had  succeeded  — 
from  the  day  when  she  was  assured  that  the 
ship  had  really  taken  him  away,  nothing  has 
roused,  nothing  has  interested  her.  She  has 
ixiven  herself  up,  more  and  more  hopclesslv,  to 
her  own  brooding  thoughts— thoughts  which, 
I  bi^lieve,  first  entered  her  mind  on  the  day 
when  the  utter  ruin  of  the  prospects  on  which 
her  marriage  depended  was  made  known  to 
her.  She  has  formed  some  desperate  project 
of  contestinc  the  possession  of  her  father's 
fortune  witirMichael  Vanstone  ;  and  the  stage 
career  which  she  has  gone  away  to  try  is 
nothing  more  than  a  means  of  Ireeing  herself 
from  ail  home-dependence,  and  of  enabling 
her  to  run  what  mad  risks  she  pleases  in  per- 
fect securitv  from  all  home-control.  What  it 
costs  me  to" write  of  her  in  these  terms  I  must 
leave  you  to  imagine.  The  time  has  gone  by 
when 'any  consideration  of  distress  to  my  own 
feelinTS  can  weigh  with  me.  Whatever  I 
can  say  which  will  open  your  eyes  to  the  real 
danger,  and  strengthen  your  convi<-tion  of  the 
instant  necessity  "of  averting  it,  I  say  in  de- 
spite of  myself,  without  hesitation  and  without 
reserve. 

"  One  word  more,  and  I  have  done. 
"  The  last  time  you  were  so  good  as  to  come 
to  this  house,  do  you  remember  how  Magdalen 
embarrassed  and  di.stressed  us  by  (|uestioning 
von  about  her  right  to  bear  her  father's  name"? 
i)o  vou  remember  her  persisting  in  her  inqui- 
ries until  she  had  forced  you  to  acknowledge 
that,  Icirally  .speaking,  .she  and  her  sister  had 
No  Name  V  1  venture  to  remind  you  of  this, 
because  you  have  the  affairs  of  hundreds  of 
clients  to  think  of,  and  you  might  well  have 


68 


NO  NAME. 


forgotten  the  circumstance.  Whatever  natu- 
ral reluctance  she  might  otherwise  have  had 
to  deceiving  us,  and  degrading  herself,  by  the 
use  of  an  assumed  name,  that  conversation 
with  you  is  certain  to  have  removed.  We 
must  discover  her  by  personal  description  — 
we  can  trace  her  in  no  other  way. 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing  more  to  guide  your 
decision  in  our  deplorable  emergency.  For 
God's  sake,  let  no  expense  and  no  efforts  be 
spared  !  I  send  my  letter  by  private  messen- 
ger :  it  ought  to  reach  you  by  ten  o'clock  this 
morning  at  the  latest.  Let  me  have  one  line 
in  answer,  to  say  you  will  act  instantly  for  the 
best.  My  only  hope  of  quieting  Norah  is  to 
show  her  a  word  of  encouragement  from  your 
pen.  Believe  me,  dear  Sir,  yours  sincerely 
and  obliged,  Harriet  Garth." 

III. 

-    FROM    MAGDALEN   TO  NORAH  (INCLOSED    IN  THK 
PRECEDING  letter). 

"My  Darling  —  Try  to  forgive  me.  I 
have  struggled  against  myself  till  I  am  worn 
out  in  the  effort.  I  am  the  wretchedest  of 
living  creatures.  _  Our  quiet  life  here  maddens 
me ;  I  can  bear  it  no  longer ;  I  must  go.  If 
you  knew  what  my  thoughts  are  ;  if  you  knew 
how  hard  I  have  fought  against  them,  and 
how  horribly  they  have  gone  on  haunting  me 
in  the  lonely  quiet  of  this  house,  you  would 
pity  and  forgive  me.  Oh,  my  love,  don't 
feel  hurt  at  my  not  opening  my  heart  to  you 
.  as  I  ought !  I  dare  not  open  It.  I  dare  not 
show  myself  to  you  as  I  really  am. 

"  Pray  don't  send  and  seek  after  me !  I 
will  write  and  relieve  all  your  anxieties.  You 
know,  JSTorah,  we  must  get  our  living  for  our- 
selves ;  I  have  only  gone  to  get  mine  In  the 
way  which  is  fittest  for  me.  Whether  I  suc- 
ceed, or  whether  I  fail,  I  can  do  myself  no 
harm  either  way.  I  have  no  position  to  lose, 
and  no, name  to  degrade.  Don't  doubt  I  love 
you  —  don't  let  Miss  Garth  doubt  my  grati- 
tude. I  go  away  miserable  at  leaving  you ; 
but  I  must  go.  If  I  had  loved  you  less  dearly 
I  might  have  had  the  courage  to  say  this  in 
your  presence ;  but  how  could  I  tru.st  myself 
to  resist  your  persuasions,  and  to  bear  the 
sight  of  your  distress  V  Farewell,  my  dar- 
ling. Take  a  thousand  kisses  from  me,  my 
own  best,  dearest  love,  till  we  meet  again. 
"Magdalen." 
IV. 

FROM    SERGEANT   BULMER    (oF   THE    DETECTIVE 
police)    TO    MR.    PENDRIL. 

Scotland  Yard,  Sept.  29, 1S46. 

"  Sir — Your  clerk  informs  me  that  the  par- 
ties interested  in  our  inquiry  after  the  missing 
young  lady  are  anxious  for  news  of  the  same. 
I  went  to  your  office  to  speak  to  you  about  the 
matter  to-day.  Not  having  found  you,  and 
not  being  able  to  return  and  try  again  to-mor- 
row, I  write  these  lines  to  save  delay,  and  to 
tell  you  how  we  stand  thus  far. 


• "  I  am  sorry  to  say  no  advance  has  been 
made  since  my  former  report.  The  trace  of 
the  young  lady  which  we  found  nearly  a  week 
since  still  remains  the  last  trace  discovered  of 
her.  This  case  seems  a  mighty  simple  one, 
looked  at  from  a  distance.  Looked  at  close, 
it  alters  very  considerably  for  the  worse,  and 
becomes,  to  speak  the  plain  truth,  a  Poser. 

"  This  is  how  we  stand : 

"  We  have  traced  the  young  lady  to  the 
theatrical  agent's  in  Bow  Street.  We  know 
that  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-third  the  agent  was  called  down  stairs, 
while  he  was  dressing,  to  speak  to  a  young 
lady  in  a  cab  at  the  door.  We  know  that,  on 
her  production  of  Mr.  Huxtable's  card,  he 
wrote  on  It  Mr.  Huxtable's  address,  and  heard 
her  order  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  terminus. 
We  believe  she  left  by  the  nine  o'clock  train. 
We  followed  her  by  the  twelve  o'clock  train. 
We  have  ascertained  that  she  called  at  half- 
past  two  at  Mr.  Huxtable's  lodgings ;  that  she 
found  he  was  away,  and  not  expected  back 
till  eight  in  the  evening;  that  she  left  word 
she  would  call  again  at  eight,  and  that  she 
never  returned.  Mr.  Huxtable's  statement  is 
— he  and  the  young  lady  have  never  set  eyes 
on  each  other.  The  first  consideration  which 
follows  is  this:  Are  we  to  believe  Mr.  Hux- 
table  ?  I  have  carefully  inquired  into  his 
character ;  I  know  as  much,  or  more,  about 
him  than  he  knows  about  himself;  and  my 
opinion  is,  that  we  are  to  believe  him.  To  the 
best  of  my  knowledge  he  is  a  perfectly  honest 
man. 

"  Here,  then,  Is  the  hitch  In  the  case.  The 
young  lady  sets  out  with  a  certain  object  be- 
fore her.  Instead  of  going  on  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  that  object  she  stops  short  of  it. 
Why  has  she  stopped  ?  and  where  ?  Those 
are,  unfortunately,  just  the  questions  which 
we  can't  answer  yet. 

"  My  own  opinion  of  the  matter  is  briefly  as 
follows :  I  don't  think  she  has  met  with  any 
serious  accident.  Serious  accidents.  In  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  discover  themselves.  My 
own  notion  Is,  that  she  has  fallen  Into  the 
hands  of  some  person  or  persons  interested  in 
hiding  her  away,  and  sharp  enough  to  know 
how  to  set  about  It.  Whether  she  is  in  their 
charge,  with  or  without  her  own  consent,  is 
more  than  I  can  undertake  to  say  at  present. 
I  don't  wish  to  raise  false  hopes  or  false  fears ; 
I  wish  to  stop  short  at  the  opinion  I  have 
given  already. 

"  In  regard  to  the  future,  I  may  tell  you 
that  I  have  left  one  of  my  men  in  daily  com- 
munication with  the  authorities.  I  have  also 
taken  care  to  have  the  hand-bills  offering  a 
reward  for  the  discovery  of  her  more  widely 
circulated.  Lastly,  I  have  completed  the  nec- 
essary arrangements  for  seeing  the  play-bills 
of  all  country  theatres,  and  for  having  the 
dramatic  companies  well  looked  after.  Some 
years  since  this  would  have  cost  a  serious  ex- 
penditure of  time  and  money.     Luckily  for 


NO  NAME. 


69 


our  purpose,  the  country  theatres  arc  in  a  bad 
way.  Excepting  the  large  cities,  hardly  one 
of  them  is  open,  and  we  can  keep  our  eye  on 
them  with  little  expense  and  less  difficulty. 

"  These  are  the  steps  which  I  think  it  need- 
ful to  take  at  present.  If  you  arc  of  another 
opinion,  you  have  only  to  give  me  your  direc- 
tions, and  r  will  carefully  attend  to  the  same. 
I  don't  by  any  moans  despair  of  our  finding 
the  young  lady,  and  bringing  her  back  to  her 
friends  safe  and  well.  Please  to  tell  them  so  ; 
and  allow  rae  to  subscribe  myself,  yours  re- 
spectfully, Abraham  Bulmeu." 


ANONV>r<irs     I.KTTICrt    AUDUKSSED    TO    MR.    I'KNDHII,. 

"  Sir — A  word  to  the  wise.     The   friends 
of  a  certain  young  Ltdy  are  wasting  time  and 


money  to  no  purpose.  Your  confidential  clerk 
and  your  detective  policeman  are  looking  for 
a  needle  in  a  bottle  of  hay.  This  is  the  ninth 
of  October,  and  they  have  not  found  her  yet ; 
they  will  as  soon  find  the  Northwest  Passage. 
Call  your  dogs  off,  and  you  may  hear  of  the 
young  lady's  safety  under  her  own  hand.  The 
longer  you  look  for  her  the  longer  she  will  re- 
main, what  she  is  now,  lost." 


[The  preceding  letter  is  thus  indorsed,  in 
Mr.  Pendril's  handwriting:  "No  apparent 
means  of  tracing  the  inclosed  to  its  source. 
Post  -  mark,  '  Charing  Cross.'  Stationer's 
stamp  cut  off  the  inside  of  the  enveloj)e. 
Handwriting,  probably  a  man's  in  disguise. 
Writer,  whoever  he  is,  correctly  informed. 
No  further  trace  of  the  younger  Miss  Van- 
stone  discovered  yet."] 


THE    SECOND    SCENE-SKELDERGATE,  YORK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

In  that  part  of  the  City  of  York  which  is 
Bituated  on  the  western  bank  of  the  Ouse 
there  is  a  narrow  street  called  Skeldcrgate, 
which  runs  nearly  north  and  south,  parallel 
with  the  course  of  the  river.  The  postern  by 
which  Skeldergate  was  formerly  a])proached 
no  longer  exists,  and  the  few  old  houses  left  in 
the  street  are  disguised  in  melancholy  modern 
costume  of  whitewash  and  cement.  Shops  of 
the  smaller  and  poorer  order,  intermixed  here 
and  there  with  dingy  warehouses  and  joyless 
private  residences  of  red  brick,  compose  the 
present  aspect  of  Skeldergate.  On  the  rivei-- 
side  the  houses  are  separated,  at  intervals,  by 
lanes  running  down  to  the  water,  and  disclos- 
ing lonely  little  plots  of  open  gi-ound,  with 
the  masts  of  sailing  barges  rising  beyond.  At 
its  southward  extremity  the  street  ceases  on  a 
sudden,  and  the  broad  How  of  the  Ouse,  the 
trees,  the  meadows,  the  public  walk  on  one 
bank,  and  the. towing-path  on  the  other,  open 
to  view. 

Here,  where  the  street  ends,  and  on  the  side 
of  it  farthest  from  the  river,  a  narrow  little 
lane  leads  up  to  the  paved  foot-way  surmount- 
ing the  ancient  Walls  of  York.  The  one 
small  row  of  buildings,  which  is  all  that  the 
lane  possesses,  is  composed  of  cheap  lodging- 
houses,  with  an  opposite  view,  at  the  distance 
of  a  few  feet,  of  a  portion  of  the  massive  city 
wall.  This  place  is  called  Iif)semary  Lane. 
Very  little  light  enters  it;  very  few  people 
live  in  it;  the  floating  population  of  Skelder- 
gate passes  it  by;  and  visitors  to  the  Walk  on 
the  Walls,  who  use  it  as  the  wav  up  or  the 
•way  down,  get  out  of  the  dreary  little  passage 
as  fast  as  they  can. 

The  door  of  one  of  the  houses  in  this  lost 
corner  of  York  opened  softly  on  the  evening 


of  the  twenty-third  of  September,  eighteen 
hundred  and  forty-six,  and  a  solitary  individual 
of  the  male  sex  sauntered  into  Skeldergate 
from  the  seclusion  of  Rosemary  Lane. 

Turning  northward,  this  person  directed  his 
steps  toward  the  bridge  over  the  Ouse  and  the 
busy  ctiutre  of  the  city.  He  bore  the  external 
appearance  of  respectable  poverty;  he  carried 
a  gingham  umbrella,  preserved  in  an  oil-skin 
case :  he  jncked  his  steps  with  the  neatest 
avoidance  of  all  dirty  places  on  the  j)ave- 
ment ;  and  he  surveyed  the  scene  around  him 
with  eyes  of  two  different  colors  —  a  bilious 
brown  eye  on  the  look  out  for  employment, 
and  a  bilious  green  eye  in  a  similar  predica- 
ment. In  plainer  terms,  the  stranger  from 
Rosemary  Lane  was  no  other  than  —  Captain 
Wragge. 

Outwardly  speaking,  the  captain  had  not 
altered  for  the  better  since  the  memorable 
spring  day  when  he  had  presented  himself  to 
Miss  Oarth  at  the  lodgivgate  of  Combe-Raven. 
The  railway  mania  of  that  famous  year  had 
attacked  even  the  wary  Wragge,  had  with- 
drawn him  from  his  customary  pursuits,  and 
had  left  him  prostrate  in  the  cud,  like  many  a 
better  man.  He  had  lost  his  clerical  appear- 
ance—  he  had  faded  with  the  autumn  leaves. 
His  crape  hat-band  had  put  itself  in  brown 
mourninir  for  its  own  bereavement  of  black. 
His  dingv  white  collar  and  cravat  had  died 
the  dcatli  of  old  linen,  and  had  gone  to  their 
Ion"  home  at  the  paper-maker's,  to  live  again 
on(!  dav  in  (juires  at  a  stationer's  shop.  A 
gray  shooting-jacket  in  the  last  stage  of  woolen 
atrophy  replaced  the  black  frock  -  coat  of 
former  times,  and,  like  a  faithful  servant,  kept 
the  dark  secret  of  its  master's  linen  from  the 
eyes  of  a  prying  world.  From  top  to  toe 
every  square  inch  of  the  captain's  clothing 
was  altered  for  the  worse :  but  the  man  him- 


70 


NO  NAME. 


self  remained  unchanged  —  superior  to  all 
forms  of  moral  mildew,  impervious  to  the  ac- 
tion of  social  rust.  He  was  as  courteous,  as 
persuasive,  as  blandly  dignified  as  ever.  He 
carried  his  head  as  Iiigh  witiiout  a  shirt  collar 
as  ever  he  had  carried  it  with  one.  Tin- 
threadbare  black  handkerchief  round  his  neck 
was  perfectly  tied  ;  his  rotten  old  shoes  were 
neatly  blacked;  he  might  have  compared 
chins,  in  the  matter  of  smooth  shaving,  witli 
the  highest  church  dignitary  in  York.  '  Time, 
change,  and  poverty  had  all  attacked  the  cap- 
tain together,  and  had  all  failed  alike  to  get 
him  down  on  the  ground.  He  paced  the 
streets  of  York  a  man  superior  to  clothes  and 
circumstances,  his  vagabond  varnish  as  bright 
on  him  as  ever. 

Arrived  at  the  bridge,  Captain  Wragge 
stopped  and  looked  idly  over  the  parapet  at 
the  barges  in  the  river.  It  was  plainly  evident 
that  he  had  no  particular  destination  "to  reach, 
and  nothing  whatever  to  do.  While  he  was 
gtill  loitering,  the  clock  of  York  Minster 
chimed  the  lialf-liour  past  five.  Cabs  rattled 
by  him  over  the  bridge,  on  their  way  to  meet 
the  train  from  London  at  twenty  minutes  to 
six.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  the  captain 
sauntered  after  the  cabs.  When  it  is  one  of  a 
man's  regular  habits  to  live  upon  his  fellow- 
creatures,  that  man  is  always  more  or  less  fond 
of  haunting  large  railway  stations.  Captain 
Wragge  gleaned  the  human  field;  and  on  that 
unoccupied  afternoon  the  York  terminus  was 
as  likely  a  corner  to  look  about  in  as  any 
other. 

He  reached  the  platform  a  few  minutes  after 
the  train  had_  arrived.  That, entire  incapa- 
bility of  devising  administrative  measures  for 
the  management  of  large  crowds,  which  is 
one  of  the  national  characteristics  of  English- 
men in  authority,  is  nowhere  more  strikingly 
exemplified  than  at  York.  Three  different 
lines  of  railway  assemble  three  passenger 
mobs,  from  morning  to  night,  under  one  roof, 
and  leave  them  to  raise  a  travelers'  riot,  with 
all  the  assistance  which  the  bewildered  ser- 
vants of  the  company  can  render  to  increase 
the  confusion.  The  customary  disturbance 
was  rising  to  its  climax  as  Captain  Wragge 
approached  the  platform.  Dozens  of  different 
people  were  trying  to  attain  dozens  of  differ- 
ent objects  in  dozens  of  different  directions, 
all  starting  from  the  same  common  point,  and 
all  equally  deprived  of  the  means  of  informa- 
tion. A  sudden  parting  of  the  crowd,  near 
the  second-class  carriages,  attracted  the  cap- 
tain's curiosity.  He  pushed  his  way  in,  and 
found  a  decently  dressed  man  —  assisted  by  a 
porter  and  a  policeman  —  attempting  to  pick 
up  some  printed  bills  scattered  from  a  paper 
parcel  which  his  frenzied  fellow-passengers 
had  knocked  out  of  his  hand. 

Offering  his  assistance  in  this  emergency 
with  the  polite  alacrity  which  marked  his 
character,  Captain  Wragge  observed  the 
three  startling  words,  "  Fifty  Pounds  Reward," 


printed  in  capital  letters  on  the  bills  which  he 
assisted  in  recovering;  and  instantly  secreted 
one  of  them,  to  be  more  closely  examined  at 
tlie  first  convenient  opportunity.  As  he  crum- 
pled up  the  bill  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  his 
parti-colored  eyes  fixed  with  hungry  interest 
on  the  proprietor  of  the  unlucky  parcel. 
When  a  man  happens  not  to  be  possessed  of 
fifty  pence  in  his  own  pocket,  if  his  heart  is 
in  the  right  place,  it  bounds — if  his  mouth  is 
properly  constituted,  it  waters — at  the  sight  of 
another  man  who  carries  about  with  him  a 
printed  ofl^er  of  fifty  pounds  sterling  addressed 
to  his  fellow-creatures. 

The  unfortunate  traveler  wrapped  up  his 
parcel  as  he  best  might,  and  made  his  way  off 
the  platform,  after  addressing  an  inquiry  to 
the  first  oflicial  victim  of  the  day's  passenger- 
trafhc  who  was  sufficiently  in  possession  of  his 
senses  to  listen  to  it.  Leaving  the  station  for 
the  river-side,  which  was  close  at  hand,  the 
stranger  entered  the  ferry-boat  at  the  North 
Street  Postern.  The  captain,  who  had  care- 
fully dogged  his  steps  thus  far,  entered  the 
boat  also,  and  employed  the  short  interval  of 
transit  to  the  opposite  bank  in  a  perusal  of  the 
hand-bill  which  he  had  kept  for  his  own  pri- 
vate enlightenment.  With  his  back  carefully 
turned  on  the  traveler.  Captain  AVragge  now 
possessed  his  mind  of  the  following  lines : 

FIFTY  POUNDS  REW.^RD. 

Left  her  home,  in  London,  early  on  the  morning  of  Sei>- 
tember  23d,  1S46,  A  Young  L-VDY.  Age — eighteen.  Dress — 
deep  mouruinp;.  Personal  .appearance — hair  of  a  very  light 
brown;  eyebrows  and  eyeliishes  darlier;  eyes  light  gray; 
complexion  strikingly  pale;  lower  part  of  her  fare  large  and 
full;  tall,  upriglit  figure;  walks  with  remarkable  gr.ar.e  and 
ease ;  speaks  witli  openness  and  resolution ;  ha,s  the  manners 
and  habits  of  .a  refined,  cultivated  hwly.  Personal  inarkg — 
two  little  moles,  close  together,  on  the  left  side  of  the  neck. 
Mark  on  the  under-clotliing — "  Magd.alen  Vanstone.'  Is 
supposed  to  have  ji>ined,  or  attempted  to  join,  under  an  as- 
sumed name,  a  the.itrical  company  now  performing  at 
York.  Had,  when  she  left  Loudon,  one  black  box,  and  no 
other  luggage.  Whoever  will  give  Huch  information  as  will 
restore  her  to  her  friends  will  receive  the  above  Reward. 
Apply  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Ilarkne.ss,  solicitor,  Coney  Street, 
York.  Or  to  Messrs.  Myatt,  Pcndril,  and  Gwilt,  Searlo 
Street,  Lincoln's  Inn,  London. 

Accustomed  as  Captain  Wragge  was  to  keep 
the  completest  possession  of  himself  in  all  hu- 
man emergencies,  his  own  profound  astonish- 
ment, when  the  course  of  his  reading  brought 
him  to  the  mark  on  the  linen  of  the  missing 
young  lady,  betrayed  him  into  an  exclamation 
of  surprise  which  even  startled  the  ferryman. 
The  traveler  was  less  observant ;  his  whole  at- 
tention was  fixed  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
river,  and  he  left  the  boat  hastily  the  moment 
it  touched  the  landing-place.  Captain  Wragge 
recovered  himself,  pocketed  the  hand-bill,  and 
followed  his  leader  for  the  second  time. 

The  stranger  directed  his  steps  to  the  near- 
est street  which  ran  down  to  the  river,  com- 
pared a  note  in  his  pocket-book  with  the 
numbers  of  the  houses  on  the  left-hand  side, 
stopped  at  one  of  them,  and  rang  the  bell. 
The  captain  went  on  to  the  next  house,  affect- 
ed to  ring  the  bell  in  his  turn,  and  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  traveler — in  appearance,  wait- 


NO  NAME. 


71 


ing  to  be  let  in  ;  in  reality,  listening  with  all 
his  might  for  any  scraps  of  dialogue  which 
might  reacli  his  ears  on  the  opening  of  the 
door  bt'liinil  him. 

The  door  was  answered  with  all  due  alacrity, 
and  a  sufli'iently  instruelive  interchange  of 
question  and  answer  on  the  threshold  rewarded 
the  dexterity  of  Captain  Wragge. 

"  Does  Mr.  IIu.\.tablc  live  hero  ?"  asked  the 
traveler. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  woman's 
toice. 

"  Is  he  at  home  V" 

"Not  at  home  now.  Sir;  but  he  will  be  in 
again  at  eigiit  to-night." 

"  I  lliinlc  a  young  lady  called  here  early  in 
the  day,  did  she  not?" 

"  Yes;  a  young  lady  came  this  afternoon." 

"  E.xactly ;  I  come  on  the  same  business. 
Did  she  see  INIr.  Iluxtable  ?" 

"No,  Sir;  he  ])as  been  away  all  day.  The 
young  lady  told  me  she  would  come  back  at 
eight  o'clock." 

"Just  .so.  I  will  call  and  see  Mr.  Iluxtablc 
at  the  sanii!  time." 

"  Any  name.  Sir  '?" 

"  No;  say  a  gentleman  called  on  theatrical 
busiiu'.s.s  —  that  will  be  enough.  Wait  one 
minute,  if  you  please.  I  am  a  J^tranger  in 
York  ;  will  you  kindly  tell  me  which  is  the 
way  to  Coney  Street  V" 

The  woman  gave  the  recjuired  information, 
the  door  clo.sed,  and  tlie  stranger  hastened 
away  in  the  dii'ection  of  Coney  Street. 

On  this  occasion  Captain  Wragge  made  no 
attempt  to  follow  him.  The  hand-bill  revealed 
plainly  enough  that  tlie  man's  next  objet^t  was 
to  complete  the  necessar}'  arrangements  with 
the  loi-al  solicitor  on  tiie  subject  of  the  promised 
reward. 

lla\  ing  seen  and  heard  enough  for  his  im- 
mediate purpose,  tlic  captain  retraced  his  steps 
down  the  street,  turned  to  tlie  right,  and  en- 
teied  on  the  J^splanade,  wliich  in  that  cpiarter 
of  tin-,  <ity  borders  the  river-sidi'  between  the 
swiniuiing-baths  an<l  Lcndal  Tower.  "  This  is 
a  family  matter,"  said  Captain  Wragge  to  him- 
sell',  jtcrsisting.  from  sheer  force  of  habit,  in  the 
old  assertion  of  his  relationsliip  to  Magdalen's 
mother;  "1  must  consider  it  in  all  its  bear- 
ings." lie  tucked  the  umbrella  under  his  arm, 
crossed  his  hands  behind  him,  and  lowered 
himself  gently  into  the  abyss  of  his  own  re- 
Ihctions.  The  order  and  propriety  ob.servable 
in  tlie  captain's  sha!>by  garments  accuratelj' 
typifieil  the  order  and  propriety  which  distin- 
pui>lied  the  0|)eraiions  of  tlie  captain's  mind. 
It  was  his  habit  alway.s  to  see  his  way  before 
liiiii  through  a  neat  sutxes.sion  of  alternatives 
— and  so  he  .saw  it  now. 

Three  courses  wen;  opened  to  him  in  con- 
nection with  the  remarkable  discovery  which 
lie  had  just  made.  The  first  cour.v-  was  to  do 
nothing  in  the  matter  at  all.  Inadmi.ssible,  on 
family  grounds:  c(jualiy  inadmis.sible  on  pecu- 
niary   grounds:    rejected    accordingly.      The 


second  course  was  to  deserve  the  gratitude  of 
the  youni^  lady's  friends,  rated  at  fifty  jiounds. 
Tlie  third  course  was  by  a  timely  wai'iiing  to 
deserve  the  gratitude  of  the  young  lady  her- 
self, rated — at  an  unknown  figure.  Between 
these  last  two  alternatives  the  warv  Wragge 
hesitated;  not  from  doubts  of  Magdalen's  pe- 
cuniary resources,  for  he  was  totally  ignorant 
of  the  circumstances  which  had  deprived  the 
sisters  of  their  inheritance  —  but  from  doubt 
whether  an  obstacle,  in  the  shape  of  an  uiuli.s- 
covered  gentleman,  might  not  be  privately 
connected  with  her  disappearance  from  home. 
After  mature  reflection  he  determined  to 
l)ause  and  be  guided  by  circumstances.  In 
the  meantime  the  first  consideration  was  to 
1)0  beforehand  with  the  messenger  from  Lon- 
don, and  to  lay  hands  securely  on  the  young 
lady  herself 

"  I  feel  for  this  Uii.sguided  girl,"  mused  the 
captain,  solemnly  strutting  backward  and  for- 
,ward  by  the  lonely  river-side.  "I  always 
have  looked  upon  her  —  I  always  shall  look 
upon  her — in  the  light  of  a  niet'c." 

Where  w  >s  the  ado])ted  relative  at  that  mo- 
ment? In  other  words,  how  was  a  young  lady 
in  Magdalen's  critical  position  likely  to  while 
away  the  hours  until  Mr.  Iluxtable's  return  ? 
j  If  tliere  was  an  obstructive  gentleman  in  tho 
back-ground  it  would  be  mere  waste  of  time 
to  jiursue  the  cpiestion.  But  if  the  inference 
which  the  hand-bill  suggested  was  correct — if 
she  was  really  alone  at  that  moment  in  tho 
City  of  York — where  was  she  likely  to  be  '? 

Not  in  the  crowded  thoroughfares,  to  begin 
with.     Not  viewing  the  objects  of  interest  in 
the  Minster,   for   it    was  now    past  the   hour 
at  wliich  the  cathedral  could  be  seen.     Was 
she  in  the  waiting-room  at  the  railway  ?     She 
would  hardly  run  that  risk.     Was  she  in  ono 
of  the  hotels  ?     Doubtful,  considering  that  she 
was  entirely  by    herself     In    a   pastry-cook's 
shop  '!     Far  more  likely.     Driving  about  in  a 
cab?  Possible,  certainly;  but  no  more.     Loi- 
tering away  the  time  in  some  quiet  locality  out 
of  doors  ?      Likely   enough,   again,   on    that 
fww  autumn   evening.     The,   captain   pan.sed, 
weighed  the  relative  idaims  on  his  attention  of 
tluMpiiet  locality  and  the  j)astry -cook's  shop ; 
and  decided  tor  the  first  of  the  two.     Thorw 
was  time  enough  to   find   her  at  the  pastry- 
cook's, to  inquire   after  her  at   the  pniicijial 
hotels,    or,    finally,   to    intercept    her   in    Mr. 
Iluxtable's    imineiliate     neighborhood,     from 
seven   to  eight.      While  the    Ii;iht   lasted   the 
wise  course  was  to  use  it  in  lr»oking  for  her 
out  of  doors.     Where?     The  Ksplanaile  was 
a  quiet  locality  ;  but  she  was  not  there  —  not 
!  on  the  lonely'  road  beyond,  which  ran    back 
I  by   the    Abl)ey   Wall.  '    Where  next  ?      The 
I  captain    stoppe<l,    looked    acros.s    the    river, 
i  brightened  under  the  influence  of  a  new  iilea, 
I  and  suddenlv  hastened  ba<k  to  the  ferry. 
j       "  The    Walk    on    the    Walls,"  thought    this 
judicious   man,   with    a   twinkle   of  his   narti- 
'  colored  eyes.     "  The  quietest  place  in   York, 


72 


NO  NAME. 


and  the  place   that  every   stranger   goes   to  1 
see." 

In  ten  minutes  more  Captain  Wragge  was 
exploring  the  new  field  of  search.  lie  mounted 
to  tlie  walls  (which  inclose  the  whole  western 
portion  of  the  city)  by  the  North  Street  Pos- 
tern, from  which  the  walk  winds  round  until  it 
ends  ao-ain  at  its  southernly  extremity  in  the 
narrow  passage  of  Rosemary  Lane.  It  was 
then  twenty  minutes  to  seven.  The  sun  had 
set  more  than  half  an  hour  Jiince;  the  red  light 
lav  broad  and  low  in  the  cloudless  western 
heaven  ;  all  visible  objects  were  softening  in 
the  tender  twilight,  but  were  not  darken- 
ing vet.  The  first  few  lamps  lit  in  the  street 
below  looked  like  faint  little  specks  of  yellow 
light  as  the  captain  started  on  his  walk 
through  one  of  the  most  striking  scenes  which 
England  can  show. 

On  his  right  hand,  as  he  set  forth,  stretched 
the  open  (country  beyond  the  walls  —  the  rich 
freeu  meadows,  the  boundary  trees  dividing 
them,  the  broad  windings  of  the  river  in  the 
distance,  the  scattered  buildiugs  nearer  to 
view  ;  all  wrapped  in  the  evening  stillness,  all 
made  beautiful  by  the  evening  peace.  On  his 
left  hand,  the  majestic  west  front  of  York 
IMinster  soared  over  the  city,  and  caught  the 
last  brightest  light  of  heaven  on  the  summits 
of  its  lofty  towers.  Had  this  noble  prospect 
tempted  the  lost  girl  to  linger  and  look  at  it? 
No ;  thus  far,  not  a  sign  of  her.  The  captain 
looked  round  him  attentively  and  walked  on. 
He  reached  the  spot  where  the  iron  course 
of  the  railroad  strikes  its  way  through  arches 
in  the  old  wall.  He  paused  at  this  place- 
where  the  central  activity  of  a  great  railway 
enterprise  beats  with  all  t  he  pulses  of  its  loud- 
clan  uing  life,  side  by  side  with  the  deail  maj- 
esty'"of  the  past,  deep  under  the  old  historic 
stones  which  tell  of  fortified  York  and  the 
sief^es  of  two  centuries  since — he  stood  on  this 
spjt  and  searched  for  her  again,  and  searched 
in  vain.  Others  were  looking  idly  down  at 
the  desolate  activity  on  the  wilderness  of  the 
iron  rails ;  but  she  was  not  among  them.  The 
captain  glanced  doubtfully  at  the  darkening 
sky,  and  walked  on. 

He  stopped  again  where  the  postern  of 
Micklcgate  still  stands,  and  still  strengthens 
the  city  walls  as  of  old.  Here  the  paved  walk 
descends  a  few  steps,  passes  through  the  dark 
stone  guard-room  of  the  ancient  gate,  ascends 
again,  and  continues  its  course  southward 
until  the  walls  reach  the  river  once  more.  lie 
paused,  and  peered  anxiously  into  the  dim 
inner  corners  of  the  old  guard-room.  Was 
she  waiting  there  for  the  darkness  to  come 
and  hide  her  from  prying  eyes  ?  No ;  a  soli- 
tary workman  loitered  through  the  stone 
chamber,  but  no  other  living  creature  stirred 
in  the  place.  The  captain  mounted  the  steps 
which  led  out  from  the  postern,  and  walked  on. 
He  advanced  some  fifty  or  sixty  yards  along 
the  paved  foot-way;  the  outlying  suburbs  of 
York  on  one  side  of  him,  a  rope-walk  and  some 


patches  of  kitchen  garden  occupying  a  vacant 
strip  of  ground  on  the  other.  He  advanced 
with  eager  eyes  and  quickened  step — for  he 
saw  before  him  the  lonely  figure  of  a  woman, 
standing  by  the  parapet  of  the  wall,  with  her 
face  set  toward  the  westward  view.  He  ap- 
proached cautiously,  to  make  sure  of  her  before 
she  turned  and  observed  him.  Tlierc  was  no 
mistaking  tliat  tall  dark  figure  as  it  rested 
against  the  parapet  with  a  listless  grace.  There ' 
she  stood,  in  her  long  black  cloak  and  gown, 
the  last  dim  liglit  of  evening  falling  tenderly 
on  her  pale,  resolute  young  face.  There  she 
stood  —  not  three  months  since  the  spoiled 
(larliug  of  her  parents,  the  priceless  treasure 
of  the  household,  never  left  unprotected,  never 
trusted  alone — there  she  stood  in  the  lovely 
dawn  of  her  womanhood,  a  castaway  in  a 
strange  city,  wrecked  on  the  world  ! 

Vagabond  as  he  was,  the  first  sight  of  her 
staggered  even  the  dauntless  assurance  of 
Captain  Wragge.  As  she  slowly  turned  her 
face  and  looked  at  him  he  raised  his  hat  with 
the  nearest  approach  to  respect  which  a  long- 
life  of  unblushing  audacity  had  left  him  capa-.. 
ble  of  making. 

"  I  think  I  have  the  honor  of  addressing  the 
younger  Miss  Vanstone  ?"  he  began.  "  Deeply 
gratified,  I  am  sure,  for  more  reasons  than 
one." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  cold  surprise.  No 
recollection  of  the  day  when  he  had  followed 
her  sister  and  herself  on  their  way  home  with 
Miss  Garth  rose  in  lier  memory  while  he  now 
confronted  her  with  his  altered  manner  and  his 
altered  dress. 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  she  said,  quiet- 
ly.    "  Y'^ou  are  a  perfect  stranger  to  me." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  the  captain  ;  "  I  am 
a  species  of  relation.  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  in  the  spring  of  the  present  year. 
I  presented  myself  on  that  memorable  occasion 
to  an  honored  preceptress  in  your  late  father's 
family.  Permit  me,  under  equally  agreeable 
circumstances,  to  present  myself  to  you.  My 
name  is  Wragge." 

By  this  time  he  had  recovered  complete  pos- 
session of  his  own  impudence  ;  his  parti-colored 
eyes  twinkled  cheerfully,  and  he  accompanied 
his  modest  announcement  of  himself  with  a 
dancing-master's  bow. 

Magdalen  frowned  and  drew  back  a  step. 
The  captain  was  not  a  man  to  be  daunted  by 
a  cold  reception.  He  tucked  his  umbrella 
under  his  arm,  and  jocosely  spelled  his  name 
for  her  further  enlightenment.  "  W^  u,_  A, 
double  G,  E — Wragge,"  said  the  captain,  tick- 
ing off  the  letters  persuasively  on  his  fingers. 

"  I  remember  your  name,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  Excuse  me  for  leaving  you  abruptly.,  I  have 
an  engagement." 

She  tried  to  pass  him  and  walk  on  north- 
ward toward  the  railway.  He  instantly  met 
the  attempt  by  raising  both  hands,  and  dis- 
playing a  pair  of  darned  black  gloves  outspread 
in  polite  protest. 


NO  NAME. 


7S 


"  Not  that  way,"  lie  said ;  "  not  tliat  way, 
Miss  Vanstone,  I  beg  and  entreat !" 

"  Why  not  ?"  she  asked,  haughtily. 

"  Because,'  answered  the  captain,  "  that  is 
the  way  which  leads  to  Mr.  Huxtable's." 

In  the  ungovernable  astonishment  of  hear- 
ing his  reply  she  suddenly  bent  forward,  and 
for  the  first  "time  looked  him  close  in  the  face. 
He  sustained  her  suspicious  scrutiny  with 
every  appearance  of  feeling  highly  gratified 
by  it.  "  H,  u,  X — Hux,"  said  the  captain, 
playfully,  returning  to  tlie  old  joke ;  "  T,  A — 
ta,  Huxta;  b,  l,  k — ble,  Iluxtable." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  Mr.  Iluxtable  ?" 
she  asked.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  mention- 
ing him  to  me  ?" 

The  captain's  curly  lips  took  a  new  twist 
upward.  He  immediately  replied,  to  the  best 
practical  purpose,  by  producing  the  hand- 
bill from  his  pocket. 

"There  is  just  light  enough  left,"  he  said, 
"  for  young  (and  lovely)  eyes  to  read  by.  Be- 
fore I  enter  upon  the  personal  statement 
which  your  flattering  incjuiry  claims  from  me, 
pray  bestow  a  moment's  attention  on  this 
Document." 

She  took  the  hand-bill  from  him.  By  the 
last  gleam  of  twilight  she  read  the  lines  which 
set  a  price  on  her  recovery — which  publislied 
the  description  of  her  in  pititless  print,  like 
the  description  of  a  strayed  dog.  No  tender 
consideration  had  prepared  her  for  the  shock, 
no  kind  words  softened  it  to  her  when  it  came. 
The  vagabond  whose  cunning  eyes  watched 
her  eagerly  while  she  read  knew  no  more  that 
the  hand-bill  which  he  had  stolen  had  only 
been  prepared  in  anticipation  of  the  worst, 
and  was  only  to  be  publicly  used  in  the  event 
of  all  more  considerate  means  of  tracing  her 
being  tried  in  vain,  than  she  knew  it.  The 
bill  dropped  from  her  hand ;  her  face  flushed 
deeply.  She  turned  away  from  Captain 
Wragge,  as  if  all  idea  of  his  existence  had 
passed  out  of  her  mind. 

"  Oh,  Norah,  Norah  !"  she  said  to  herself, 
sorrowfully.  "  After  the  letter  I  wrote  you — 
after  the  hard  struggle  I  had  to  go  away ! 
Oh,  Norah  !  Norah  !" 

"  How  is  Norah  ?"  inquired  the  captain, 
with  the  utmost  politeness. 

She  turned  upon  him  with  an  angry  bright- 
ness in  her  lar<rf,  gray  eyes.  "  Is  this  thing 
shown  publicly  V"  she  asked,  stamping  her  foot 
on  it.  "  Is  the  mark  on  my  neck  described  all 
over  York  ?" 

"  Pray  compose  yourself,"  pleaded  the  per- 
suasive Wragge.  "  At  pre.sent  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  that  you  have  just  perused 
the  only  copy  in  circulation.  Allow  me  to 
pick  it  up." 

Before  he  could  touch  the  bill  she  snatched 
it  from  the  i>avemcnt,  tore  it  into  fragments, 
and  tiircw  them  over  the  wall. 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  captain,  "you  remind 
me  of  your  poor,  dear  mother.     The  family 


10 


spirit,  Miss  Vanstone.     We  all  inherit  our  hot 
blood  from  my  maternal  grandfather." 

"  How  did  you  come  by  it?"  she  asked,  sud- 
denly. 

"  My  dear  creature,  I  have  just  told  you," 
remonstrated  the  captain.  "  We  all  come  by 
it  from  my  maternal  grandfather." 

"How  did  you  come  by  that  hand-bill?" 
she  repeated,  passionately. 

"  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons  !  My  head 
was  running  on  the  family  spirit.  How  did  I 
come  by  it?  Briefly  thus."  Here  Captain 
Wragge  entered  on  his  personal  statement  — 
taking  his  custOBaary  vocal  exercise  through 
the  longest  words  in  the  English  language, 
with  the  highest  elocutionary  relish.  Having 
on  this  rare  occasion  nothing  to  gain  by  con- 
cealment, he  departed  from  his  ordinary  hab- 
its, and  with  the  utmost  amazement  at  the 
novelty  of  his  own  situation  permitted  himself 
to  tell  the  unmitigated  truth. 

The  eflcct  of  the  narrative  on  Magdalen  by 
no  means  fulfilled  Captain  Wragge's  antici- 
pations in  relating  it.  She  was  not  startled; 
she  was  not  irritated  ;  she  showed  no  disposi- 
tion to  cast  herself  on  his  mercy  and  to  seek 
his  advice.  She  looked  him  steadily  in  the 
face,  and  all  she  said  when  he  had  neatly 
rounded  his  last  sentence  was  —  "  Go  on." 

"  Go  on  ?"  repeated  the  captain.  "  Shocked 
to  disappoint  you,  I  am  sure  —  but  the  fact  is,. 
I  have  done." 

"  No,  you  have  not,"  she  rejoined  ;  "  you 
have  left  out  the  end  of  your  story.  The 
end  of  it  is — You  came  here  to  look  for  me  ; 
and  you  mean  to  earn  the  fifty  pounds  re- 
ward." 

Those  plain  words  so  completely  staggered 
Captain  Wragge  that  for  the  moment  he  stood 
speechless.  But  he  had  faced  awkward  truths 
of  all  sorts  far  too  often  to  be  permanently 
disconcerted  by  them.  Before  Magdalen 
could  pursue  her  advantage  the  vagabond 
had  recovered  his  balance ;  Wragge  was  him- 
self again. 

"  Smart,"  said  the  captain,  laughing  indul- 
gently, and  drumming  with  his  umbrella  on 
the  pavement.  "  Some  men  might  take  it 
seriously.  I  'm  not  easily  ofll'ended.  Try 
again." 

Magdalen  looked  at  him  through  the 
gathering  darkness  in  mute  perplexity.  All 
her  little  experience  of  society  had  been 
experience  among  people  who  possessed  a 
common  sense  of  honor,  and  a  common  rr^^ 
sponsibility  of  social  position.  She  had  hi\j^. 
erto  seen  nothing  but  the  successful  hu'.^^Q 
product  from  the  great  manufactory  of  Vlvii- 
ization.  Here  was  one  of  the  failures  -^and, 
with  all  her  quickness,  she  was  puz%l^d;hc)w 
to  deal  with  it. 

"  Pardon  me  for  returning  to  the  subject " 
pursued  the  captain.  "  It  has  jusc  occurred 
to  my  mind  that  you  might  actually  have 
spoken  in  earnest.     My  poor  chjjd  '  how  ran. 


74 


NO  NAMK. 


I  earn  the  fifty  pounds  before  the  reward  is  ] 
offered  to  me  ?  Those  hand-bills  may  not  be  i 
publicly  posted  for  a  week  to  come.  Precious 
as  you  are  to  all  your  relatives  (myself  includ- 
ed), take  my  word  for  it  the  lawyers  who 
are  managing  this  case  will  not  pay  fifty 
pounds  for  you  if  they  can  possibly  help  it. 
Are  you  still  persuaded  that  my  needy  pockets 
are  gaping  for  the  money?  Very  good.  But- 
ton them  up,  in  spite  of  me,  with  your  own 
fair  fingers.  There  is  a  train  to  London  at 
nine-forty-five  to-night.  Submit  yourself  to 
your  friend's  wishes,  and  go  back  by  it." 

"  Never!"  said  Magdalen,  firing  at  the  bare 
suggestion,  exactly  as  tlie  captain  had  in- 
tended she  should.  •'  If  my  mind  had  not 
been  made  up  before,  that  vile  h;\nd-liill 
•would  have  decided  me.  I  forgive  Norah," 
she  added,  turning  away,  and  speaking  to 
herself,  "  but  not  Mr.  Pendril,  and  not  Miss 
Garth." 

"  Quite  right !"  observed  Captain  Wragge. 
"  The  family  spirit.  I  should  have  done  the 
same  myself  at  your  age  :  it  rutis  in  the  blood. 
Hark  !  there  goes  the  clock  again  —  half-past 
seven.  Miss  Vanstone,  pardon  this  seasonable 
abruptness.  If  you  are  to  carry  out  your 
resolution  —  if  you  are  to  be  your  own  mis- 
tress mUch  longer,  you  must  take  a  course  of 
some  kind  before  eight  o'clock.  You  are 
young,  you  a^'e  inexperienced,  you  are  in 
imrr>nent  danger.  Here  is  a  position  of  emer- 
gency on  one  side  —  and  here  am  I,  on  the 
other,  with  an  uncle's  interest  in  you,  full  of 
advice.     Tap  me." 

".Suppose  I  choose  to  depend  on  nobody, 
and  to  act  for  myself  V"  said  Magdalen. 
"What  then?" 

"  Then,"  replied  the  captain,  "  you  will 
walk  straight  into  one  of  the  four  traps  which 
are  set  to  catch  you  in  the  ancient  and  inter- 
esting City  of  York.  Trap  the  fiist,  at  Mr. 
Huxtable's  house  ;  trap  the  second,  at  all  the 
hotels;  trap  the  third,  at  the  railway  station; 
trap  the  fourth,  at  the  theatre.  Tliat  man 
with  the  hand-bills  has  had  an  hour  at  his 
disposal.  If  he  has  not  set  those  four  traps 
(with  the  assistance  of  the  local  solicitor)  by 
this  time  he  is  not  the  competent  lawyer's 
clerk  I  take  him  for.  Come,  come,  my  dear 
girl !  if  there  is  somebody  else  in  the  back- 
ground whose  advice  you  prefer  to  mine — " 

"  You  see  that  I  am  alone,"  siie  interpos(!d, 
proudly.  *'  If  you  knew  me  better,  you  would 
know  that  I  depend  on  nobody  but  myself." 

Those  words  decided  the  only  doubt  which 
now  remained  in  the  captain's  mind  —  the 
doubt  whether  the  course  was  clear  before 
him.  The  motive  of  her  flight  from  home  was 
evidently  what  the  hand-bills  assumed  it  to 
be  —  a  reckless  fancy  for  going  on  the  stage. 
"  One  of  two  things,"  thought  Wragge  to 
himself,  in  his  logical  way.  "  She  's  worth 
more  than  fifty  pounds  to  me  in  her  present 
situation,  or  she  isn't.  If  she  is,  her  friends 
may  whistle  for  her !     If  she  isn't,  I  have  only 


to  keep  her  till  the  bills  are  posted."  Fortified 
by  tiiis  simple  plan  of  action  the  captain 
returned  to  the  charge,  and  politely  placed 
Magdalen  between  the  two  inevitable  alter- 
natives of  trusting  herself  to  him,  on  the  one 
hand,  or  of  returning  to  her  friends,  on  the 
other 

"  I    respect     independence    of    character 
wherever  I  find  it,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of 
virtuous  severity.     "  In   a  young  and  lovely 
relative  I  more  than   respect  —  I  admire   it. 
But  (excuse  the  bold  assertion)  to  walk  on  ai 
way  of  your  own  you  must  first  have  a  way  ■ 
to  walk  on.     Under   existing  circumstances, , 
where  is  your  way  ?     Mr.  Huxtable  is  out  of 
the  (juestion,  to  begin  with. 

"  Out  of  the  (question  for  to-night,"  said 
Magdalen  ;  "  but  what  hin'ders  me  from  writ- 
ing to  Mr.  Huxtable,  and  making  my  own 
private  arrangements  with  him  tor  to-mor- 
row ?" 

"  Granted,  with  all  my  heart  —  a  hit,  a  pal- 
pable hit.  Now  for  my  turn.  To  get  to  to- 
morrow (excuse  the  bold  assertion  once  more) 
you  must  first  pass  through  to-night.  Where 
are  you  to  sleep  ?" 

"  Are  there  no  hotels  in  York  ?" 

"  Excellent  hotels  for  large  families;  excel- 
lent hotels  for  single  gentlemen.  The  very 
worst  hotels  in  the  world  for  handsome  young 
ladies  who  present  themselves  alone  at  the 
door  without  male  escort,  without  a  maid  in 
attendance,  and  without  a  single  article  of 
luggage.  Dark  as  it  is,  I  think  I  could  see  a 
lady's  box  if  there  was  anything  of  the  sort  in 
our  Tmmediate  neighborhood." 

"  My  box  is  at  the  cloak-room.  What  is  to 
prevent  my  sending  the  ticket  for  it?" 

"  Nothing  —  if  you  want  to  communicate 
your  address  by  means  of  your  box — nothing 
whatever.  Think;  pray  think!  Do  you  really 
suppose  that  the  people  who  are  looking  for 
you  are  such  fools  as  not  to  have  an  eye  on 
the  cloak-room?  Do  you  tliink  they  are  such 
fools —  when  they  find  you  don't  come  to  Mr. 
Huxtable's  at  eight  to-night — as  not  to  inquire 
at  all  the  hotels  ?  Do  you  think  a  young  lady 
of  your  striking  appearance  (even  if  they 
consented  to  receive  you)  could  take  up  her 
abode  at  an  inn  without  becoming  the  subject 
of  universal  curiosity  and  remark  ?  Here  is 
niglit  coming  on  as  fast  as  it  can  i*  Don't  let 
me  bore  you  :  only  let  me  ask  once  more  — 
Where  are  you  to  sleep  ?" 

There  was  no  answer  to  that  question :  in 
Magdalen's  position  there  was  literally  no  an- 
swer to  it  on  her  side.     She  Avas  silent. 

"  Where  are  you  to  sleep  ?"  repeated  the 
cajjtain.  "  The  reply  is  obvious  —  under  my 
roof.  Mrs.  Wragge  will  be  charmed  to  see 
you.  Look  upon  her  as  your  aunt ;  pray  look 
upon  her  as  your  aunt.  The  landlady  is  a 
widow,  the  house  is  close  by,  there  are  no 
other  lodgers,  and  there  is  a  bedroom  to  let. 
Can  anything  be  more  satisfactory  under  all 
the  circumstances  ?  Pray  observe,  I  say  noth- 


NO  NAME. 


7S 


inir  about  to-morrow  —  I  leave  to-morrow  to 
you,  and  confine  myself  exclusively  to  the 
night.  1  may,  or  may  not,  command  theatrical 
facilities  wliich  1  cim  in  a  jiosition  to  offer 
you.  Sympathy  and  admiration  may,  or  may 
not,  be  strong  \\ithin  me  when  I  contemplate 
the  dash  and  independence  of  your  character. 
Hosts  of  examples  of  bright  stars  of  the  Brit- 
ish dram;),  who  have  begun  tiicir  apprentice- 
ship to  the  stage  as  you  are  beginnmg  yours, 
may,  or  may  not,  crowd  on  my  memory.  These 
are  topics  lor  the  future.  For  the  present  I 
confine  myself  within  my  strict  range  of  duty. 
AVc  are  within  five  minutes  walk  of  my  pres- 
ent address.  Allow  me  to  offer  you  my  arm. 
NoV  You  hesitate?  You  distrust  me  V  (Jood 
Heavens !  is  it  possible  you  can  have,  heard 
anything  to  my  disadvantage?" 

"  Quite  possible,"  said  Magdalen,  without  a 
moment's  tiimliing  from  the  answer. 

"jMay  I  incpiire  the  particulars?"  a.sked  the 
«aptain,  with  (he  politest  composure.  "  Don't 
spare  myteelings;  oblige  me  by  speaking  out. 
In  the  plainest  terms,  now,  what  have  you 
lieard  ?" 

She  answered  him  with  a  woman's  desper- 
ate disregard  of  consecjuences  when  she  is 
driven  to  bay — she  answered  him  instantly: 

"  I  have  iunrd  you  are  a  Kogue  ?" 

"  Have  you,  indeed  ?"  said  the  impenetrable 
Wragge.  "  A  Rogue  ?  Well!  I  waive  my 
privilege  of  setting  you  right,  on  that  point 
for  a  fitter  time.  For  the  sake  of  argument, 
let  us  say  I  am  Rogue.  What  is  Mr.  IIux- 
table?"  ' 

"  A  respectable  man,  or  I  should  not  have 
wen  him  in  the  house  where  we  first  met." 

'•Very  good.  Now  ob.serve!  You  talked 
of  writing  to  ^Ir.  Huxtable  a  minute  ago. 
Wliat  do  you  think  a  respectable  man  is 
likely  to  do  with  a  young  lady  who  openly 
acknowledges  that  she  has  run  away  from  her 
home  and  her  friends  to  go  on  the  stage  ? 
My  dear  girl,  on  your  own  showing,  it  's  not 
a  respcitable  man  you  want  in  your  present 
predicament.     It  's  a  Rogue — like  me." 

Magdalen  laughed  bitterly. 

♦'  Then-  is  some  truth  in  that,"  she  said. 
"  Thank  you  for  recalling  me  to  myself  and 
my  circumstances.  I  have  my  end  to  gain  — 
and  who  am  T  to  pick  and  choose  the  way  of 
petting  to  it?  It  is  my  turn  to  beg  pardon 
now.  I  have  been  talking  as  if  1  was  a  young 
lady  of  family  and  po?ition.  Absurd  !  We 
know  better  than  that,  don't  we,  Captain 
Wragge  ?  You  are  quite  right.  Nobod3''9 
child  must  sleep  under  Somebody's  roof — and 
■why  not  yours  ?" 

"  This  way."  said  the  captain,  dcxtrously 
profiting  by  the  sudden  change  in  her  humor, 
and  cunningly  refraining  from  exa,«perating  it 
by  saying  more  himself     "  This  way." 

She  followed  him  a  few  steps,  and  suddenly 
stopped. 

"  Suppose  I  am  discovered  ?"  she  broke  out, 
abruptly.    *'  Who  has  any  authority  over  me  ? 


Who  can  take  me  back  if  I  don't  choose  to 
go?  If  they  all  find  me  to-morrow,  what 
then?  Can't  I  say  No  to  Mr.  Pendril? 
Can't  I  trust  my  own  courage  with  Afisa 
Garth  ?" 

"  Can  you  trust  your  com-age  with  your  sit- 
ter?" whispered  the  captain,  who  had  not  for- 
gotten the  references  to  Norah  which  had 
twice  escaped  her  already. 

Her  head  drooped.  She  shivered  as  if  the 
cold  night  air  had  struck  her.  and  leaned  back 
wearily  against  the  parapet  of  the  wall. 

"  Not  with  Norah,"  she  said  sadly.  "  I  could 
trust  myself  with  the  others.  Not  with  No- 
rah." 

"  This  way,"  repeated  Captain  Wragge. 
She  roused  her.^clf;  looked  up  at  the  dark- 
ening heaven,  lookeil  round  at  the  darkening 
view.  "  What  must  be.  must,"  she  said,  and 
followed  him. 

The  Min.ster  clock  struck  the  quarter  to 
eight  as  they  left  the  Walk  on  the  Wall  and 
descended  the  steps  into  IJoscmary  Lane. 
Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  lawyer's  clerk 
from  London  gave  the  last  instructions  to  his 
subordinates,  and  took  up  his  own  position  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  within  easy 
view  of  Mr.  Iluxtable's  door. 


CHAP  TKR  IT. 

Captain  Wragge  stopped  nearly  midway  in 
the  one  little  row  of  houses  composing  Rose- 
mary Lane,  and  let  himself  and  his  guest  in  at 
the  door  of  his  lodgings  with  his  own  key. 
As  they  entered  the  ])assage  a  care-worn 
woman,  in  a  widow's  cap.  made  her  appear- 
ance with  a  candle.  '•  My  niece,"  said  the 
captain,  presenting  Magdalen  ;  "  my  niece  on 
a  visit  to  York.  She  has  kindly  consented  to 
occupy  your  emjity  bedroom.  Consider  it  let, 
if  you  please,  to  my  niece  —  and  be  very  par- 
ticular in  airing  the  sheets.  Is  Mrs.  Wragge 
up  stairs  V  Very  good.  You  may  lend  me 
your  candle.  My  dear  girl,  Mrs.  Wragge's 
boudoir  is  on  the  first  floor;  Mrs.  Wragge  it 
visible.     Allow  me  to  show  you  the  way  up." 

As  he  ascended  the  stairs  first  the  care- 
worn widow  whispered  piteously  to  Mag- 
dalen :  "  1  hope  you  'II  pay  me,  mis.t.  Your 
uncle  doesn't." 

The  captain  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
front  room  on  the  first  floor,  and  disclosed  a 
female  figure,  arrayed  in  a  gown  of  tarnished 
amber-colored  satin,  seated  solitary  on  a  small 
chair,  with  dingy  old  gloves  on  its  hands, 
with  a  tattered  old  book  on  its  knees,  and  with 
one  little  bedroom  eandle  by  its  side.  The 
figure  tenninated  at  ilj  upper  extremity  in  a 
large,  smooth,  white,  round  fare  like  a  moon, 
encircled  bv  a  cap  and  green  ribbons,  and 
dimly  irra<liated  by  eyes  of  mild  and  faded 
blue,  which  Wiked  ftraightforward  into  va- 
cancy, and   took    not  the   smallest  notice  of 


76 


NO  NAME. 


Magdalen's  appearance  on  the  opening  of  the 
door. 

"Mrs.  Wragge  !"  cried  the  captain,  shout- 
ing at  her  as  if  she  was  fast  asleep  —  "  Mrs. 
Wragge  !" 

The  lady  of  the  faded  blue  eyes  slowly  rose 
to  an  apparently  interminable  height.  When 
she  had  at  last  attained  an  upright  position 
she  towered  to  a  stature  of  two  or  three 
inches  over  six  feet.  Giants  of  both  sexes 
are,  by  a  wise  dispensation  of  Providence, 
created  for  the  most  part  gentle.  If  Mrs. 
Wragge  and  a  lamb  had  been  placed  side  by 
side,  comparison,  under  those  circumstances, 
would  have  exposed  the  lamb  as  a  rank  im- 
postor. 

"  Tea,  dear  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Wragge,  look- 
ing submissively  down  at  her  husband,  whose 
head  when  he  stood  on  tip-toe  barely  reached 
her  shoulder. 

"  Miss  Vanstone  the  youngpr,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, presenting  Magdalen.  "  Our  fair  rela- 
tive, whom  I  have  met  by  a  fortunate  accident. 
Our  guest  for  the  night.  Our  guest !"  reiter- 
ated the  captain,  shouting  once  more,  as  if  the 
tall  lady  was  still  fast  asleep,  in  spite  of  the 
plain  testimony  of  her  own  eyes  to  the  con- 
trary. 

A  smile  expressed  itself  (in  faint  outline)  on 
the  large  vacant  space  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  coun- 
tenance. "  Oh '?"  she  said,  interrogatively. 
"  Oh,  indeed  ?  Please,  miss,  will  you  sit 
down  ?  I  'm  sorry  —  no,  I  don't  mean  I  'm 
sorry ;  I  mean  I  'm  glad — "  She  stopped  and 
consulted  her  husband  by  a  helpless  look. 

"  Glad,  of  course !"  shouted  the  captain. 

"  Glad,  of  course !"  echoed  the  giantess  of 
the  amber  satin,  more  meekly  than  ever. 

"  Mrs.  Wragge  is  not  deaf,"  explained  the 
captain.  "  She  's  only  a  little  slow.  Consti- 
tutionally torpid — if  I  may  use  the  expression. 
I  am  merely  loud  with  her  (and  I  beg  you  will 
honor  me  by  being  loud  too)  as  a  necessary 
stimulant  to  her  ideas.  Shout  at  her — and  her 
mind  comes  up  to  time.  Speak  to  her  —  and 
she  drifts  miles  away  from  you  directly.  Mrs. 
Wragge  !" 

Mrs.  Wragge  instantly  acknowledged  the 
itimulant.  "  Tea,  dear  ?"  she  inquired,  for  the 
second  time. 

"Put  your  cap  straight !"  shouted  her  hus- 
band. "  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons,"  he  re- 
sumed, again  addressing  himself  to  Magdalen. 
"  The  sad  truth  is,  I  am  a  martyr  to  my  own 
sense  of  order.  All  untidiness,  all  want  of 
system  and  regularity,  causes  me  the  acutest 
irritation.  My  attention  is  distracted,  my  com- 
posure is  upset ;  I  can't  rest  till  things  are  set 
straight  again.  Externally  speaking,  Mrs. 
Wragge  is,  to  my  infinfte  regret,  the  crooked- 
est  woman  I  ever  met  with.  More  to  the 
right !"  shouted  the  captain,  as  Mrs.  Wragge, 
like  a  well-trained  child,  presented  herself 
with  her  revised  head-dress  for  her  husband's 
inspection. 

Mrs.  Wragge  immediately  pulled  the  cap  to 


the  left.  Magdalen  rose  and  set  it  right  for 
her.  The  moon -face  of  the  giantess  bright- 
ened for  the  first  time.  She  looked  admiringly 
at  Magdalen's  cloak  and  bonnet.  "  Do  you 
like  dress,  miss  ?"  she  asked  suddenly,  in  a 
confidential  whisper.     "  I  do." 

"  Show  Miss  Vanstone  her  room,"  said  the 
captain,  looking  as  if  the  whole  house  belonged  ■ 
to  him.  "The  spare -room,  the  landlady'! 
spare-room,  on  the  third  floor  front.  Offer 
Miss  Vanstone  all  articles  connected  with 
the  toilet  of  which  she  may  stand  in  need. 
She  has  no  luggage  with  her.  Supply  the  de- 
ficiency, and  then  come  back  and  make  tea." 

Mrs.  Wragge  acknowledged  the  receipt  of 
these  lofty  directions  by  a  look  of  placid  be- 
wilderment, and  led  the  way  out  of  the  room, 
Magdalen  following  her  with  a  candle  pre- 
sented by  the  attentive  captain.  As  soon  as 
they  were  alone  on  the  landing  outside,  Mrs. 
Wragge  raised  the  tattered  old  book  which 
she  had  been  reading  when  Magdalen  was.  first 
presented  to  her,  and  which  she  had  never  let 
out  of  her  hand  since,  and  slowly  tapped  her- 
self on  the  forehead  with  it.  "  Oh,  my  poor 
head  !"  said  the  tall  lady,  in  meek  soliloquy ; 
"  it  's  Buzzing  again  worse  than  ever  !" 

"  Buzzing  V"  repeated  Magdalen,  in  the  ut- 
most astonishment. 

Mrs.  Wragge  ascended  the  stairs  without 
offering  any  explanation,  stopped  at  one  of 
the  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  and  led  the 
way  in. 

"  This  is  not  the  third  floor,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  This  is  not  my  room,  surely  ?" 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Wragge.  "Wait 
a  bit,  miss,  before  we  go  up  any  higher.  I  've 
got  the  Buzzing  in  my  head  worse  than  ever. 
Please  wait  for  me  till  I  'm  a  little  better 
again." 

"  Shall  I  ask  for  help  ?"  inquired  Magdalen. 
"  Shall  I  call  the  landlady  ?" 

"  Help  V"  echoed  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Bless 
you,  I  don't  want  help !  I  'm  used  to  it.  I  've 
had  the  Buzzing  in  my  head,  off  and  on — 
how  many  years  ?"  She  stopped,  reflected, 
lost  herself,  and  suddenly  tried  a  question  in 
despair.  "  Have  you  ever  been  at  Darch's 
Dining-Rooms  in  London '?"  she  asked,  with 
an  appearance  of  the  deepest  interest. 

"  No,"  replied  Magdalen,  wondering  at  the 
strange  inquiry. 

"  That  's  where  the  Buzzing  in  my  head 
first  begun,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  following  the 
new  clew  with  the  deepest  attention  and 
anxiety.  "  I  was  employed  to  wait  on  the 
gentlemen  at  Darch's  Dining-Rooms  —  I  was. 
The  gentlemen  all  came  together ;  the  gen- 
tlemen were  all  hungry  together;  the  gentle- 
men all  gave  their  orders  together — "  She 
stopped,  and  tapped  her  head  again  despond- 
ently with  the  tattered  old  book. 

"  And  you  had  to  keep  all  their  orders  in 
your  memory,  separate  one  from  the  other  ?" 
suggested  Magdalen,  helping  her  out.  *'  And 
the  trying  to  do  that  confused  you  ?" 


i 


NO  NAME. 


"  That 's  it !"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  becoming 
violently  excited  in  a  moment.  "  Boiled  pork 
and  greens  and  pease-pudding  for  Number 
One.  Stewed  beef  and  carrots  and  goose- 
berry tart  for  Number  Two.  Cut  of  mutton, 
and  quick  about  it,  well  done,  and  plenty  of 
fat,  for  Number  Three.  Codfish  and  pars- 
nips, two  chops  to  follow,  hot-and-hot,  or  1  '11 
be  the  death  of  you,  for  Number  Four.  Five, 
six,  seven,  eight,  nine,  ten.  Cai-rots  and 
gooseberry  tart  —  jiea,«e-j)ndding  and  plenty 
of  fat  —  pork  and  beef  and  mutton,  and  cut 
'em  all,  and  quick  about  it — stout  for  one,  and 
ale  for  t'  other — and  stale  bread  here,  and 
new  bread  there — and  this  gentleman  likes 
cheese,  and  that  gentleman  doesn't — Matilda, 
Tilda,  Tilda,  Ti'lda,  fifty  times  over,  till  I 
didn't  know  my  own  name  again — oh  lonl ! 
oh  lord!!  oli  lord!!!  all  together,  all  at  the 
same  time,  all  out  of  temper,  all  buzzing  in 
my  poor  head  like  forty  thousand  million 
bees  —  don't  tell  the  captain!  don't  tell  the 
captain  !"  The  unfortunate  creature  dropped 
the  tattered  old  book,  and  beat  both  hands 
on  her  head,  with  a  look  of  blank  terror  fixed 
on  the  door. 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  said  Magdalen.  "  The 
captain  hasn't  heai'd  you.  1  know  what  is 
the  matter  with  your  head  now.  Let  me  cool 
it." 

She  dipped  a  towel  in  water,  and  pressed 
it  on  the  hot  and  helpless  head  which  Mrs. 
Wragge  submitted  to  her  with  the  docility  of 
a  sick  child. 

"  What  a  pretty  hand  you  've  got !"  said 
the  poor  creature,  feeling  the  relief  of  the 
coolness,  and  taking  Magdalen's  hand  admir- 
ingly in  her  own.  "  How  soft  and  white  it. 
is !  I  try  to  be  a  lady  ;  I  always  keej)  my 
gloves  on  —  but  I  can't  get  my  hands  like 
yours.  I  'm  nicely  dressed  though,  ain't  J  ! 
1  like  dress!  it  's  a  comfort  to  me.  I  'm 
always  happy  when  I  'm  looking  at  my  things. 
I  say  —  you  won't  be  angry  with  me?  I 
should  so  like  to  try  your  bonnet  on." 

Magdalen  humored  her,  with  tlie  ready 
com])assion  of  the  young.  She  .stood  smiling 
and  nodding  at  herself  in  the  glass,  with  the 
bonnet  perchud  on  the  top  of  her  head.  "  I 
had  one  as  pretty  as  tiiis,  once,"  she  said  — 
"  only  it  was  white,  not  black.  I  wore  it 
when  the  captain  married  me." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  with  him  ?"  asked 
Magdalen,  putting  the  question  as  a  chance 
means  of  increasing  her  scanty  stock  of  in- 
formation on  the  sultject  of  Captain  Wragge. 

"  At  the  Dining-Kooms,"  .said  Mrs.  Wragge. 
"  He  waa  the  hungriest  and  the  loudest  to 
wait  upon  of  the  lot  of  'em.  I  made  more 
mistakes  with  him  than  I  did  with  all  the 
rest  of  them  put  together.  He  uied  to 
swear  —  oh,  didn't  he  use  to  gwear  !  W^hen 
he  lefl  off  swearing  at  me,  he  married  me. 
There  was  others  wanted  me  besides  him. 
Bless  you,  I  harl  my  pick.  Why  not?  When 
you  have  a  trifle  of  money  lefl  you  that  you 


didn't  e.xpect,  if  that  don't  make  a  lady  of 
you,  what  does?  Isn't  a  lady  to  have  her 
pick  ?  I  had  my  trifle  of  money,  and  I  had 
my  pick,  and  I  pi(  keil  the  captain  —  I  did. 
He  was  the  smartest  and  the  shortest  of  them 
all.  He  took  i-are  of  me  and  my  money. 
I  'm  here,  the  money's  gone.  Don't  you  put 
that  towel  down  on  t\je  tal)le — he  won't  have 
tliat!  Don't  move  his  razors — don't,  please, 
or  I  shall  forget  which  is  whii-h.  I  've  got  to 
remember  which  is  which  to-morrow  nu)rning. 
Bless  you,  the  captain  don't  shave  himself! 
He  had  me  taught.  T  sliave  him.  I  do  his 
hair,  and  cut  Ids  nails  —  he  's  awfully  particu- 
lar about  his  nails.  So  he  is  about  his  trow- 
seiw.  And  his  shoes.  And  his  newspaper  in 
the  morning.  And  his  breakfasts,  and  lunches, 
and  dinners,  and  teas — "  Slie  stopped,  struck 
by  a  sudden  recollection,  looked  about  her, 
observed  the  tattered  old  book  on  the  floor, 
and  clasped  her  hands  in  despair.  "  I  've  lost 
the  place  !"  sue  exclaimed,  helplessly.  "  Oh, 
mercy,  what  will  become  of  me  !  I  've  lost 
the  place." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Magdalen  ;  "  I  '11  soon 
find  the  place  for  you  again." 

She  picked  up  the  book,  looked  into  the 
pages,  and  found  that  the  object  of  !Mrs. 
Wraggc's  anxiety  was  nothing  more  important 
than  an  old-fashioned  Treatise  on  the  Art  of 
Cookery,  reduced  under  the  usual  heads  of 
Fish,  Flesh,  and  Fowl,  and  containing  the 
customary  series  of  recipes.  Turning  over 
the  leaves,  Magdalen  came  to  one  particular 
page,  thickly  studded  with  little  drqp.*  of 
moisture,  half  dry.  "  Curious  !"  .she  said.  "  If 
this  was  anything  but  a  cookery-book  1  should 
say  somebody  had  been  <'rying  over  it." 

"  Somebody  '/"  echoed  ^Irs.  Wragge,  with 
a  starts  of  amazement.  "  It  isn't  somebody — 
it  's  Me.  Thank  you  kindly,  that  's  the  place 
sure  enough.  Bless  you  ;  I  'm  used  to  crying 
over  it !  You  'd  cry  too  if  you  had  to  get  the 
captain's  dinners  out  of  it.  As  sure  as  ever  I 
sit  down  to  this  book  the  Buzzing  in  my  head 
begins  again.  Who  s  to  make  il  out'/  Some- 
times I  think  I  've  got  it,  and  it  all  goes  away 
from  me.  Sometimes  I  think  I  haven't  got  it, 
and  it  all  comes  back  in  a  heap.  Look  here ! 
Here  's  what  he  's  ordered  for  his  breakfast 
to-morrow  :  '  Omelette  with  Herbs.  Beat  up 
two  eggs  with  a  little  water  or  milk,  salt, 
pepper,  chives,  and  parsley.  Mince  small.' 
There  !  mince  small !  How  am  I  to  mince 
small,  when  it  's  all  mixed  up  and  running  ? 
'  Put  a  piece  of  butter  the  size  of  your  thumb 
into  the  frying-pan.'  Look  at  my  thumb  and 
look  at  yours !  whose  size  does  she  mean  ? 
'  Boil  but  not  brown.'  If  it  musn't  be  brown 
what  color  must  it  be  ?  She  won't  tell  me ; 
she  expects  me  to  know,  and  I  don't.  '  Pour 
in  the  omelette.'  There !  I  can  do  that. 
'  Allow  it  to  set,  raise  it  round  the  edge  ; 
when  done,  turn  it  over  to  double  it.'  Oh 
the  numbers  of  times  I  turned  it  over  and 
doubled  it  in  my  head  before  you  came  in  to-; 


78 


NO  NAME. 


night !  '  Keep  it  soft ;  put  the  dish  on  the 
iiying-pan  and  turn  it  over.'  Which  am  I  to 
turn  over — oh  mercy,  try  the  cold  towel  again, 
and  tell  me  which,  the  dish  or  the  frying-pan  ?" 

"  Put  the  dish  on  the  frying-pan,"  said  Mag- 
dalen, "  and  then  turn  the  frying-pan  over. 
That  is  what  it  means,  I  think." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge, 
"  I  want  to  get  it  into  my  head  ;  please  say  it 
again." 

Magdalen  said  it  again. 

"  And  then  turn  the  frying-jian  over,"  re- 
peated Mrs.  Wragge,  with  a  sudden  burst  of 
energy.  •'  I  've  got  it  now  !  Oh  tlie  lots  of 
omelettes  all  frying  togetiier  in  my  head,  and 
all  frying  wrong.  Much  obliged,  I  am  sure. 
You  've  put  me  all  right  again ;  I  am  only  a 
little  tired  with  talking.  And  then  turn  the 
frying-pan,  then  turn  the  frying-pan,  then 
turn  the  frying-pan  over.  "Jt  sounds  like 
poetry,  don't  it  V 

Her  voice  sank,  and  she  drowsily  closed 
her  eyes.  At  the  same  moment  the  door  of 
the  room  below  open(>d,  and  the  captain's 
mellifluous  bass  notes  floated  up  stairs,  charged 
with  the  customary  stimulant  to  his  wife's 
faculties. 

"  Mrs.  Wragge !"  cried  the  captain.  "  Mrs. 
Wragge  !" 

She  started  to  her  feet  at  that  terrible  sum- 
mons. "  Oh,  what  did  he  tell  me  to  do  !"  .she 
asked,  distractedly.  "  Lots  of  things,  and  I  've 
forgotten  them  all !" 

"  Say  you  have  done  them  when  he  asks 
you,'"  suggested  Magdalen.  "  They  were  things 
for  me — things  I  don't  want.  I  remember  all 
that  is  necessary.  My  room  is  the  front  room 
on  the  third  floor.  Go  down  stairs  and  say  I 
am  coming  directly." 

She  took  up  the  '^andle  and  pushed  Mrs. 
Wragge  out  on  the  lauding.  "  Say  I  am  com- 
ing directly,"  she  whispered  again — and  went 
up  stairs  by  herself  to  the  third  story. 

The  room  was  small,  close,  and  very  poorly 
furnished.  In  former  days  Miss  Garth  would 
have  hesitated  to  offer  such  a  room  to  one  of 
the  servants  at  Combe-Raven.  But  it  was 
quiet ;  it  gave  her  a  few  minutes  alone ;  and 
it  was  endurable,  even  welcome,  on  that  ac- 
count. She  locked  herself  in,  and  walked 
mechanically,  with  a  woman's  first  Impulse  in 
a  strange  bedroom,  to  the  rickety  little  table 
and  the  dingy  little  looking-glass.  'She  waited 
there  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  away 
again  with  weary  contempt.  "  What  does  It 
matter  how  pale  I  am  ?"  she  thought  to  her- 
self, "  Frank  can't  see  me — what  does  it  mat- 
ter now  !" 

She  laid  aside  her  cloak  and  bonnet  and  sat 
down  to  collect  herself.  But  the  events  of 
the  day  had  worn  her  out.  The  past,  when 
she  tried  to  remember  it,  only  made  her  heart 
ache.  The  future,  when  she  tried  to  pene- 
trate It,  was  a  black  void.  She  rose  again 
and  stood  by  the  uncurtained  window — stood 


looking  out,  as  if  there  were  some  hidden 
Sympathy  for  her  own  desolation  In  the  deso- 
late night. 

"  Norah  !"  she  said  to  herself,  tenderly  ;  "  I 
wonder  If  Norah  is  thinking  of  me  ?  Oh,  If 
I  could  be  as  patient  as  she  is !  If  I  could 
only  forget  t!ie  debt  we  owe  to  Michael  Van- 
stone  !" 

Her  face  darkened  with  a  vindictive  de- 
spair, and  she  paced  the  little  cage  of  a  room 
backward  and  forward  softly.  "  No  ;  never 
till  the  debt  Is  paid  !"  Her  thoughts  veered 
back  again  to  Frank.  "  Still  at  sea,  poor  fel- 
low :  farther  and  farther  away  from  me ;  sail- 
ing through  the  day,  sailing  through  the 
night.     Oh,  Frank,  love  me  !" 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  dashed 
them  away,  made  for  the  door,  and  laughed 
with  a  desperate  levity  as  she  unlocked  it 
again. 

"  Any  company  Is  better  than  my  own 
thoughts,"  slie  burst  out  recklessly,  as  she  left 
the  room.  "  I  'm  forgetting  my  ready-made 
relations — my  half-witted  aunt,  and  my  uncle 
the  rogue."  She  descended  the  stairs  to  the 
landing  on  the  first  floor,  and  paused  there  In 
momentary  hesitation.  "  How  will  It  end  ?" 
she  asked  herself.  "  Where  is  my  blindfold 
journey  taking  me  to  now  V  Who  knows  and 
who  cares  ?" 

She  entered  the  room. 

Captain  Wragge  was  presiding  at  the  tea- 
tray,  with  the  air  of  a  prince,  In  his  own  ban- 
queting-hall.  At  one  side  of  the  table  sat 
Mrs.  Wragge  watching  her  husband's  eye  like 
an  animal  waiting  to  be  fed.  At  the  other 
side  was  an  emply  chair,  toward  which  the 
captain  waved  his  persuasive  hand  when 
]\Iagdalen  came  in.  "  How  do  you  like  your 
room  V"  he  inquired ;  "  I  trust  Mrs.  Wragge 
has  made  herself  useful  ?  You  take  milk 
and  sugar  V  Try  the  local  bread,  honor  the 
York  butter,  test  the  freshness  of  a  new  and 
ricighborlng  egg.  I  offer  my  little  all.  A 
pauper's  meal,  my  dear  girl,  seasoned  with  a 
gentleman's  welcome." 

"  Seasoned  with  salt,  pepper,  chives,  and 
parsley,"  murmured  Mrs.  Wragge,  catching 
instantly  at  a  word  in  connection  with  cook- 
ery, and  harnessing  her  head  to  the  om.elette 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

"  Sit  straight  at  the  table !"  shouted  the 
captain.  "  More  to  the  left,  more  still  —  that 
will  do.  During  your  absence  up  stairs,"  he 
continued,  addressing  himself  to  Magdalen, 
"  my  mind  has  not  been  unemployed.  I  have 
been  considering  your  position,  with  a  view 
exclusively  to  your  own  benefit.  If  you  de- 
cide on  being  guided  to-morrow  by  the  light 
of  my  experience,  that  light  Is  unreservedly 
at  your  service.  You  may  naturally  say,  '  I 
know  but  little  of  you,  captain,  and  that  little 
Is  unfavorable.'  Granted  on  one  condition  — 
that  you  permit  me  to  make  myself  and  my 
character  quite  familiar  to  you  when  tea  is 


NO  NAME. 


79 


••fijsver.     False  shame  is  foreign  to  my  nature. 

'  '  You  see  my  wife,  my  house,  my  bread,  my 
butter,  and  my  ejzgs,  all  exactly  as  they  are. 
See  me.  too,  my  "dear  girl,  while  you  are 
about  it.*' 

When  tea  was  over  Mrs.  Wragge,  at  a  sig- 
nal from  her  husband,  retired  to  a  corner  of 
the  room  with  tlie  eternal  cookery-book  still 
in  her  hand.  "Mini-e  small."  she  whispered, 
confideu  tially,  as  she  passed  Magdalen.  "That 
is  a  Ti'azer,  isn't  it  V" 

"  Down  at  heel  again  !"  shouted  the  captain, 
pointing  to  his  wife's  heavy  flat  feet  as  they 
shufiU'd  across  the  room.  "  The  right  shoe. 
Full  it  up  at  heel,  Mrs.  Wragge — pull  it  up  at 
heel !  Pray  allow  me,"  he  continued,  offering 
his  arm  lo  Magdalen,  and  escorting  lu-r  to  a 
(iirty  little  horse-hair  sofa.  "  You  want  repose 
— afler  your  long  journey,  you  really  want  re- 
pose.' lie  drew  his  chair  to  the  sofa  and  sur- 
veyed her  with  a  bland  look  of  investigation — 
as  if  lie  had  been  her  medical  attendant,  with 
a  diagno.sis  on  his  mind. 

"Very  ])leasant!  very  pleasant !"  said  the 
captain,  when  he  had  seen  his  guest  comfort- 
able on  the  sofa.  "  I  feel  quite  in  the  bosom 
of  my  family.  Shall  we  return  to  our  subject 
-^the  subject,  of  my  rascally  self?  No  !  no! 
No  apologies,  no  protestations,  pray.  Don't 
mince  the  matter  on  your  side  —  and  depend 
on  me  not  to  mince  it  on  mine.  Now  come  to 
facts;  pray  come  to  facts.  Who  and  what  am 
I  ■;'  Carry  your  mind  back  to  our  conversation 
on  the  Walls  of  this  interesting  city,  and  let 
us  start  once  more  from  your  point  of  view.  I 
am  a  Rogue;  and  in  tliat  capacity  (as  I  have 
already  pointed  out)  the  most  useful  man  yon 
could  possibly  have  met  with.  Now  observe  ! 
There  aie  many  varieties  of  Rogue ;  let  me 
tell  you  my  variety  to  begin  with.  I  am  a 
Swindler." 

His  entire  shamelessness  was  really  super- 
human. Not  the  vestige  of  a  blush  varied  the 
sallow  monotony  of  his  comj)lexion  ;  tiie  smile 
wreathed  his  cui'ly  lips  as  pleasantly  as  ever; 
his  parti-colored  eyes  twinkled  at  Alagdalen 
with  the  self-enjoying  frankness  of  a  naturally 
harmless  man.  Had  his  wife  heard  him  'i  j 
Magdalen  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  the 
corner  of  the  room  in  which  she  was  sitting  j 
behind  him.  No:  the  self-taught  student  of  I 
cookery  was  absorbed  in  her  subject.  She  had 
advanced  her  imaginary  omelette  to  the  criti- 
cal stage  at  which  the  butter  was  to  be  thrown 
in  —  that  vaguely-measured  morsel  of  butter, 
the  size  of  your  tbumb.  !Mrs.  Wragge  sat  lost 
in  contemplation  of  one  of  her  own  thumbs, 
and  shook  her  head  over  it,  as  if  it  failed  to 
satisfy  her. 

"  Don't  be  shocked,"  proi^ceded  the  captain  ; 
"  don't  b(!  astonished.  Swindler  is  nothing 
but  a  wonl  of  two  syllables.  S,  W^  I,  N,  D— 
swiud  ;  L,  E,  R — ler:  Swindler.  Definition: 
A  monil  agriculturist;  a  man  who  cultivates 
the  field  of  human  sympathy.  I  am  that  moral 
agriculturist,  that  cultivating  man.     Narrow- 


minded  mediocrity,  envious  of  my  success  in 
my  profession,  calls  me  a  Swindler.  What  of 
that?  The  same  low  tone  of  mind  assails 
men  in  other  professions  in  a  similar  manner — 
calls  great  writers  scribblers  —  great  generals 
butchers — and  so  on.  It  entirely  depends  on 
the  jmint  of  view.  Adopting  your  point,  1 
anuouiu'e  myself  intelligil)ly  as  a  Swindler. 
Now  return  the  obligation,  and  adopt  mine. 
Hear  what  I  have  to  say  for  myself  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  my  profession.  Shall  I  continue  to 
put  it  frankly  '? ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Magdalen  ;  "  and  I  '11  tell  you 
frankly  afterward  what  I  think  of  it." 

The  captain  cleared  his  throat;  mentallv 
assemblcd  his  entire  army  of  words  —  horse, 
foot,  artillery,  and  reserves  ;  put  himself  at  the 
head,  and  dashed  into  action,  to  carry  the 
moral  intrenchments  of  Society  by  a  general 
charge. 

"  Now,  observe,"  he  began.  "  Here  am  I, 
a  needy  object.  Very  good.  Without  com- 
plicating the  (pieslion  by  asking  how  1  come 
to  be  in  that  condition,  I  will  merely  iucpiire 
whether  it  is,  or  is  not,  the  duty  of  a  Ciirislian 
comnmnity  to  help  the  needy.  If  you  say 
No,  you  simply  shock  me ;  and  there  is  an  (Mid 
of  it.  If  you  say  Yes,  then  I  beg  to  ask.  Why 
am  I  to  blame  lor  making  a  Christian  commu- 
nity do  its  duty?  You  may  say,.  Is  a  careful 
man  who  has  saved  money  bound  to  spend  it 
again  on  a  careless  stranger  who  has  saved 
none  ?  Why,  of  course  he  is  !  And  on  what 
ground,  pray  ?  Good  heavens  !  on  the  ground 
that  he  has  ^n/  the  money,  to  be  sure.  All  the 
world  over  the  man  who  has  not  got  the  thing 
obtains  it,  on  one  pretense  or  another,  of  the 
man  who  has  —  and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
the  pretense  is  a  false  one.  What !  your  pock- 
ets are  full,  and  my  pockets  are  em])ty,  and 
you  refuse  to  help  me?  Sordid  wretrh  !  do 
you  think  I  will  allow  you  to  violate  the  sacred 
obligations  of  ciiarity  in  my  person  'i  I  won't 
allow  you — I  say  distinctly,  I  won't  allow  you. 
Those  are  my  principles  as  a  moral  agricul- 
turist. Princijiics  which  admit  of  trickery  ? 
Certainly.  Am  I  to  blame  if  the  field  of  hu- 
man sympathy  can't  be  cultivated  in  any  other 
way  '.'  Consult  my  brother  agriculturists  in 
the  mere  farming  line — do  they  get  their  crops 
for  the  asking"/  No!  they  must  circumvent 
arid  Nature  exactly  as  I  circumvent  sordid 
^lan.  They  must  plow,  and  sow,  and  top- 
dress,  and  bottom-dress,  and  deep-drain,  and 
surface-drain,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  "Why  am 
I  to  be  checked  in  the  vast  occupation  of  deep- 
draiuing  mankind?  Why  am  I  to  be  persecut- 
ed I'or  habitually  exciting  the  noblest  feelings 
of  our  common  nature  ?  Infamous  1  1  can 
characterize  it  by  no  other  word — infamous  ! 
If  I  hadn't  confidence  in  tin;  future  I  should 
despair  of  humanity  —  but  I  have  confidenco 
in  the  future.  Yes!  one  oftlie.se  days  \when 
I  am  dead  and  gone),  as  ideas  enlarge  and 
enlightenment  progresses,  the  abstract  merits 
of  the  profession  now  called  swindling  will  be 


80 


NO  NAIklE. 


recognized.  When  tbat  day  comes  don't  draj^ 
me  out  of  my  arave  and  give  me  a  public  fu- 
neral; don't  take  advantage  of  my  having  no 
voice  to  raise  in  my  own  defense,  and  insult 
me  by  a  national  statue.  No !  do  me  justice 
on  piy  tombstone  ;  dash  me  off  in  one  masterly 
sentence  on  my  epitaph.  Here  lies  Wragse, 
Embalmed  in  the  tardy  recognition  of  his 
species :  he  j)lowod,  sowed,  and  reaped  his  fel- 
low-creatures;  and  enlightened  posterity  con- 
gratulates him  on  the  uniform  e.xcellence  of 
his  crops." 

He  stopped ;  not  from  want  of  confidence, 
not  from  want  of  words — puroly  from  want  of 
breath.  "1  put  it  frankly,' with  a  dash  of 
humor,"  he  said,  pleasantly.  "  I  don't  shock 
you,  do  I  ?"  Weary  and  heart-sick  as  she  was, 
suspicious  of  others,  doubtful  of  herself,  the 
extravagant  impudence  of  Captain  Wragge's 
defense  of  swindling  touched  Magdalen's  nat- 
ural sense  of  humor,  and  forced  a  smile  to 
her  lips.  "  Is  the  Yorkshire  crop  a  ])articularly 
rich  one  just  at  present  V"  sIki  inquired,  meet- 
ing him,  in  her  neatly  feminine  way,  with  his 
own  weapons. 

"  A  hit  —  a  palpable  hit  I"  said  the  captain, 
jocosel}-  exhibiting  the  tails  of  his  threadbare 
shooting-jacket,  as  a  practical  commentarj'  on 
Magdalen's  remark.  "  My  dear  girl,  here  or 
elsewhere,  the  crop  never  fails  ;  but  one  man 
can't  always  gather  it  in.  The  assistance  of 
intelligent  co-operation  is,  I  regret  to  say, 
denied  me.  I  have  nothing  in  common  with 
the  clumsy  rank  and  file  of  my  profession, 
who  convict  thepiselves,  before  recorders  and 
magistrates,  of  the  worst  of  all  ofFen-ses  — 
incurable  stupidity  in  the  exercise  of  their 
own  vocation.  Such  as  you  see  me,  I  stand 
entirely  alone.  After  years  of  successful  self- 
dejiciidence,  the  penalties  of  celebrity  are 
beginning  to  attach  to  me.  On  my  way  from 
the  Nortii,  I  pause  at  this  interesting  city  for 
the  third  time;  I  consult  my  Books  for  tlie 
customary  refei'cnees  to  past  lo(;al  experience; 
I  find  under  the  heading,  'Personal  position 
in  York,'  the  initials  T.  W.  K.,  signifying 
Too  Well  Known.  I  refer  to  my  Index,  and 
turn  to  the  surrounding  neighborhood.  The 
same  brief  remarks  meet  my  eye.  '  Leeds,  T. 
W.  K. ;  Scarborougli,  T.  W.  K. ;  Ilarrowgate, 
T.  W.  K.,'and  so  on.  What  is  the  inevitable 
consequence?  I  suspend  my  proceedings; 
my  resources  evaporate;  and  my  fair  relative 
finds  me  at  a  ci-isis  in  my  career." 

"  Your  books  ?"  said  Magdalen.  "  What 
books  do  you  mean  ?" 

"You  sliall  see,"  replied  the  captain. 
"Trust  me  or  not,  as  you  like  —  I  trust  you 
implicitly.     Yon  shall  see." 

W'ith  those  words  he  retired  into  the  back 
room.  While  he  was  gone  Magdalen  stole 
another  look  at  ]\Irs.  Wragge.  Was  she  still 
self-isolated  from  her  husband's  deluge  of 
words?  Perfectly  self-isolated.  She  had 
advanced  tlie  imaginary  omelette  to  the  last 
stage  of  culinary  progress;  and  she  was  now 


rehearsing  the  final  operation  of  turning  it 
over — with  the  palm  of  her  hand  to  represent 
the  dish,  and  the  cookery-book  to  impersonate 
tiie  frying-pan.  "  I  've  got  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Wragge.  nodding  across  the  room  at  Magda- 
len. •'  First  ])Ut  the  frying-pan  on  the  dish, 
and  then  tumble  both  of  them  over." 

Captain  Wragge  returned,  carrying  a  neat 
black  dispatch-box,  adorned  with  a  bright 
brass  lock.  He  produced  from  the  bo.x  five 
or  six  plump  little  books,  bound  in  commercial 
calf  and  vellum,  and  each  fitted  comfortably 
with  its  own  little  lock. 

"  Mind  !"  said  the  moral  agrlcultui-ist,  "  I 
take  no  credit  to  myself  for  this :  it  is  my  na- 
ture to  be  orderly,  and  orderly  I  am.  I  must 
have  everything  down  in  black  and  white,  or 
1  should  go  mad !  Here  is  my  commercial 
library — Day-Book,  Ledger,  Book  of  Districts, 
Book  of  Letters,  Book  of  Remarks,  and  so  on. 
Kindly  throw  your  eye  over  any  one  of  them. 
I  flatter  myself  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
blot  or  a  careless  entry  in  it  from  the  first 
j)age  to  the  last.  Look  at  this  room — is  there 
a  chair  out  of  place  ?  Not  if  I  know  it ! 
Look  at  me.  Am  I  dusty  ?  am  I  dirty  ?  am  I 
half  shaved  ?  Am  I,  in  brief,  a  speckless 
pauper,  or  am  I  not  ?  Mind  !  I  take  no 
credit  to  myself;  the  nature  of  the  man,  my 
dear  girl  —  the  nature  of  the  man  !" 

He  opened  one  of  the  books.  Magdalen 
was  no  judge  of  the  admirable  correctness 
with  which  the  accounts  inside  were  all  kept, 
but  she  could  estimate  the  neatness  of  the 
handwriting,  the  regularity  in  the  rows  of 
figures,  the  mathematical  exactness  of  the 
ruled  lines  in  red  and  black  ink,  the  cleanly 
absence  of  blots,  stains,  or  erasures.  Although 
Cui)tain  Wragge's  inborn  sense  of  order  was, 
in  him,  as  it  is  in  others,  a  sense  too  inveter- 
atfly  mechanical  to  exercise  any  elevated 
moral  influence  over  his  actions,  it  had  pro- 
duced its  legitimate  effect  on  his  habits,  and 
had  reduced  his  rogueries  as  strictly  to  method 
and  system  as  if  they  had  been  the  commer- 
cial transactions  of  an  honest  man. 

"  In  appearance  my  system  looks  compli- 
cated V"  asked  the  captain.  "  In  reality  it  is 
simplicity  itself.  I  merely  avoid  the  errors  of 
inferior  practitioners.  That  is  to  say,  I  never 
plead  for  myself;  and  I  never  apply  to  rich 
peojile — both  fafeal  mistakes  which  the  infe- 
rior practitioner  perpetually  commits.  People 
with  small  means  sometimes  have  generous 
impulses  in  connection  with  money  —  rich 
people,  never.  My  lord,  with  forty  thousand 
a  year;  Sir  John,  with  property  in  half  a 
dozen  counties — ^those  are  the  men  who  never 
forgive  the  genteel  beggar  for  swindling  them 
out  of  a  sovereign  ;  those  are  the  men  who 
send  for  the  mendicity  officers ;  those  are  the 
men  who  take  care  of  their  money.  Who  are 
the  people  who  lose  shillings  and  sixpences  by 
sheer  thoughtlessness  ?  Servants  and  small 
clerks,  to  whom  siiillings  and  sixpences  are  of 
consequence.      Did  you  ever  hear  of  Roth- 


NO  NAME. 


81 


schild  or  Baring  dropping  a  fourpenny-piece 
down  a  gutter- hole.  Fourponce  in  Roth- 
schild's pocket  is  safer  than  fourpence  in  the 
pocket  ot  that  -woman  who  is  crying  stale 
shrimps  in  Skeldergate  at  this  moment.  For- 
tified by  these  sound  principles,  enlightened 
by  the  stores  of  written  information  in  my 
commercial  library,  I  have  ranged  through 
the  population  for  years  past,  and  have  raised 
mv  charitable  crops  with  the  most  cheering 
gu'cccss.  Here,  in  book  Number  One.  are  all 
my  Districts  mapped  out,  with  the  prevalent 
public  feeling  to  appeal  to  in  each  —  IMilitary 
District,  Clerical  District,  Agricultural  Dis- 
trict; Et  eajtera,  Et  cetera.  Here,  in  Num-  j 
ber  Two,  arc  my  eases  that  I  plead:  Family 
of  an  officer  who  fell  at  Waterloo ;  Wife  of  a 
poor  curate  stricken  down  by  nervous  debil- 
ity ;  Widow  of  a  grazier  in  diflieulties  gored 
to  death  by  a  mad  bull ;  Et  cajtera,  Et  cJBtera. 
Here,  in  Number  Three,  are  the  people  who 
have  heard  of  the  officer's  family,  the  curate's 
wife,  the  grazier's  widow,  and  the  people  who 
haven't ;  tiie  people  who  have  said  Yes,  and 
the  people  who  have  said  No ;  the  people  to 
try  again,  the  people  who  want  a  fresh  case 
to  stir  them  up,  the  people  who  are  doubtful, 
the  people  to  beware  of;  Et  cetera,  Et  ca?- 
tera.  Here,  in  Number  Four,  are  my  Adopted 
Handwritings  of  public  char.acters;  my  testi- 
monials to  my  own  worth  and  integrity;  my 
Heart-rending  Statements  of  the  officer's  fam- 
ily, the  curate's  wife,  and  the  grazier's  widow, 
Btained  with  tears,  blotted  with  emotion ;  Et 
cajtera,  Et  csetera.  Here,  in  Numbers  Five 
and  Six,  are  my  own  personal  subscriptions 
to  lo<'al  charities,  actually  paid  in  remunera- 
tive neighborhoods,  on  the  principle  of  throw- 
ing a  sprat  to  catch  a  herring,  also,  my  diary 
of  eaih  day's  proceedings,  my  personal  reflec- 
tions and  remarks,  my  statement  of  existing 
difiicultie«  (such  as  the  difliculty  of  finding 
myself  T.  W.  K.  in  this  interesting  city) ;  my 
outgoings  and  incomings;  wind  and  weather; 
politics  and  public  events  ;  fluctuations  in  my 
own  health ;  fluctuations  in  Mi's.  Wragge's 
head ;  tiuctuations  in  our  means  and  meals, 
our  payments,  prospects,  and  principles ;  Et 
caitera,  Et  cetera.  So,  my  dear  girl,  the 
Swindler's  Mill  goes.  So,  you  see  me  exactly 
as  1  am.  You  knew,  before  I  met  you,  that  I 
lived  on  my  wits.  Well !  have  I,  or  have  I 
not,  shown  you  that  1  have  wits  to  live  on  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  have  done  yourself 
full  justice,"  said  Magdalea,  quietly. 

"  1  am  not  at  all  exliausled, '  continued  the 
captain.  "  I  can  go  on,  if  necessary,  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening.  However,  if  I  have  done 
myself  full  justice,  perhaps  I  may  leave  the 
remaining  points  in  my  charticter  to  develop 
themselves  at  future  opportunities.  For  the 
present,  I  withdraw  myself  from  notice.  Exit 
VVragg<'.  And  now  to  business!  Permit  me  ' 
to  in(juirc  wliat  cflTect  I  have  produced  on  youx 
own  mind  V  Do  you  still  believe  that  the  , 
Rogue  who  has  trusted  you  with  all  his  secrets 
11 


is  a  Rogue  who  is  bent  on  taking  a  mean  ad- 
vantage of  a  fair  relative  ?" 

"I  will  wait  a  little,"  Magdalen  rejoined, 
before  I  answer  that  question."  When  I  came 
down  to  tea  you  tohi  me  you  had  been  em- 
ploying your  mind  for  my  benefit.  May  I  ask 
how  ?" 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Captain  Wra^^ge. 
"  You  shall  have  the  net  result  of  the  whole 
mental  process.  Said  process  ranges  over  the 
present  and  future  })roceedings  of  your  dis- 
consolate friends,  antl  of  the  lawyers  who  are 
helping  them  to  find  you.  Their  present  pro- 
ceedings are,  in  all  probability,  assuminc  the 
following  form:  The  lawyer's  clerk  has  given 
you  up  at  Mr.  Huxtable's,  and  has  also,  by 
this  time,  given  you  up  after  careful  inquiry 
at  all  the  hotels.  His  last  chance  is,  that  you 
may  send  for  your  box  to  the  cloak-room — you 
don't  send  for  it — and  there  the  clerk  is  to- 
night (thanks  to  Captain  Wragge  and  Rose- 
mary l^ne  !)  at  the  end  of  his  resources.  Pie 
will  forthwith  communicate  that  fact  to  his 
employers  in  London ;  and  those  employers 
(don't  be  alarmed !)  will  apply  for  help  to  the 
detective  j)olice.  Allowing  for  inevitable  de- 
lays, a  professional  spy,  with  all  his  wits  about 
him,  and  with  those  hand-bills  to  help  him  pri- 
vately in  identifying  you,  will  be  here,  cer- 
tainly not  later  than  the  day  after  to-morrow — 
possibly  earlier.  If  you  remain  in  Y'ork,  if  you 
attempt  to  communicate  with  Mr.  Huxtable, 
that  spy  will  find  you  out.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  leave  the  city  before  he  comes 
(taking  your  departure  by  other  means  than 
the  railway,  of  course)  you  put  him  in  the 
same  predicament  as  the  clerk — you  defy  him 
to  find  a  fresh  trace  of  you.  There  is  my  brief 
abstract  of  your  present  position.  What  do 
you  think  of  it?" 

"  I  think  it  has  one  defect,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  It  ends  in  nothing." 

"  Pardon  me,"  retorted  the  captain  ;  "  it 
ends  in  an  arrangement  for  your  safe  depart- 
ure, and  in  a  plan  for  the  entire  gratification 
of  your  wislies  in  the  direction  of  the  stage. 
Both  drawn  from  the  resources  of  my  own  ex- 
perience; and  both  waiting  a  word  from  you, 
to  be  poured  forth  immediately,  in  the  fullest 
detail." 

"  I  think  I  know  what  that  word  is,"  replied 
Magdalen,  looking  at  him  attentively. 

'•  Charmed  to  hear  it,  I  am  sure.  You  haT« 
only  to  say,  '  Captain  Wragge,  take  charge  of 
me,' and  my  plans  are  yours  trom  that  moment" 

"  I  will  fake  to-night  to  consider  your  pro- 
posal," she  said,  after  an  instant's  reflection. 
"  You  shall  have  my  answer  to-morrow  mora- 

Captain  Wragge  looked  a  lilUe  disappointed. 
He  had  not  expected  the  reservation  on  hit 
side  to  be  met  eo  composedly  by  a  reservation 
on  hers. 

"Why  not  decide  at  once?"  he  remon- 
strated, in  his  most  persuasive  tones.  "  Yoa. 
liave  only  to  consider — " 


82 


NO  NAME. 


"I  have  more  to  consider  than  you  thinV 
for,"  she  answered.  "I  have  another  object 
in  view  besides  the  object  you  know  of." 

"  May  I  ask — ?" 

"Excuse  me,  Captain  Wrajigo  —  you  may 
not  ask.  Allow  me  to  thank  you  for  your  hos- 
pitality, and  to  wisli  you  good-night.  I  am 
worn  out.     I  want  rest." 

Once  more  the  captain  wisely  adapted  liim- 
8elf  to  her  humor,  with  the  ready  self-control 
of  an  experienced  man. 

"  Worn  out,  of  course !"  ho  said,  sympa- 
thetically. "  Unpardonable  on  my  part  not 
to  have  thonjjht  of  it  before.  Wt;  will  resume 
our  conversation  to-morrow.  Permit  me  to 
give  you  a  candle.     ]\Irs.  Wragfje  !" 

Prostrated  by  menial  exertion,  Mrs.  Wragge 
was  pursuing  the  course  of  the  omelette  in 
dreams.  Her  head  was  twisted  one  way,  and 
her  body  the  other.  She  snored  meekly.  At 
intervals  one  of  her  hands  raised  itself  in 
the  air,  shook  an  imaginary  frying-pan,  and 
dropped  again  with  a  faint  thump  on  the  uook- 
ery-book  in  her  lap.  At  the  sound  of  her  hu.s- 
band's  voice  she  started  to  her  feet,  and  con- 
fronteii  him  with  her  mind  fast  asleep  and  her 
eyes  wide  open. 

"  Assist  Mi^s  Vanstone,"  said  the  captain. 
•'  And  the  next  time  you  forget  yourself  in 
your  chair,  fall  asleep  straight — don't  annoy 
me  by  falling  asleep  crooked." 

Mrs.  Wragge  opened  her  eyes  a  little  wider, 
and  looked  at  Magdalen  in  helpless  amaze- 
ment. 

'*  Is  the  captain  breakfasting  by  candle- 
light?" she  inquired,  meekly.  "  And  haven't 
1  done  the  omelette  V" 

Before  her  husband's  corrective  voice  could 
apply  a  fresli  stimulant  Magdalen  took  her 
compassionately  by  the  arm,  and  led  her  out 
of  the  room. 

"  Another  object  besides  the  object  I  know 
ofV"  repeated  Captain  Wragge,  wlien  he  was 
left  by  himself  "  Is  there  a  gentleman  in  the 
bas-k-ground  after  all  V  Is  there  nn'schief  brew- 
\n<r  in  the  dark  that  I  don't  bar-jain  for?" 


CHAPTER    III. 

Toward  si.x  o'clock  the  next  morning  the 
light  pouring  in  on  her  face  awoke  Magdalen 
in  the  bedroom  in  Rosemary  Laiie. 

She  started  from  her  deep  dreamless  repose 
of  the  past  night  with  that  painful  sense  of 
bewilderment  on  first  waking  which  is  familiar 
to  all  slei-pers  in  strange  beds.  "Norah,"  she 
called  out  mechanically,  Avhen  she  o])ened  her 
eyes.  The  next  instant  her  mind  roused  itself, 
and  Iter  senses  told  her  the  truth.  She  looked 
round  the  miserable  room  with  a  loathing  re- 
cognition of  it.  The  sordid  contrast  whicii 
the  place  presented  to  all  that  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  see  in  her  own  bedchamber — 


the  practical  abandonment  implied  in  its  scant/ 
furniture  of  those  elegant  purities  of  personal 
liabit  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  from 
her  childhood  —  shocked  that  sense  of  bodily- 
self-respect  in  Magdalen  which  is  a  refined 
woman's  second  nature.  Contemptible  as  the 
influence  seemed  when  compared  with  her  sit- 
uation at  tliat  moment,  the  l)are  sight  of  the 
jug  and  basin  in  al  corner  of  the  room  decided 
her  first  resolution  when  she  woke.  She  de- 
termined then  and  there  to  leave  Rosemary 
Lane. 

"  How  was  she  to  leave  it  ?  With  Captain 
Wragge,  or  without  him  ? 

Slie  dressed  herself,  with  a  dainty  shrinking 
from  everything  in  tlie  room  which  her  hands 
or  her  clotlies  touched  in  the  process,  and  then 
opened  the  window.  The  autumn  air  felt 
keen  and  sweet,  and  the  little  patch  of  sky 
tliat  she  could  see  was  warmly  bright  already 
with  the  new  sunlight.  Distant  voices  of 
bargemen  on  the  river,  and  the  chirping  of 
birds  among  the  weeds  which  topped  the  old 
city  wall,  were  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the 
morning  silence.  She  sat  down  by  the  win- 
dow, and  searched  her  mind  for  the  thoughts 
which  she  had  lost  when  weariness  overcame 
her  on  the  night  before. 

The  first  subject  to  which  she  returned  was 
the  vagabond  subject  of  Captain  Wragge. 

The  "  moral  agriculturist"  had  failed  to  re- 
move her  personal  distrust  of  him,  cunningly 
as  he  had  tried  to  plead  against  it  by  openly 
confessing  the  impostures  that  he  had  practiced 
on  others.  He  had  raised  her  opinion  of  his 
abilities  ;  he  had  amused  her  by  his  humor;  he 
had  astonished  her  by  his  assurance,  but  he 
had  left  her  original  conviction  that  he  was  a 
Rogue  exactly  where  it  was  when  he  first  met 
with  her.  If  the  one  design  then  in  her  mind 
had  been  the  design  of  going  on  the  stage,  she 
would  at  all  hazards  have  rejected  the  more 
than  doubtful  assistance  of  Captain  Wragge 
on  the  spot. 

But  the  perilous  journey  on  which  she  had 
now  adventured  hei'self  had  another  end  in 
view — an  end  dark  and  distant — an  end  with 
pitfalls  hidden  on  the  way  to  it,  far  other  than 
the  shallow  pitfalls  on  the  way  to  the  stage. 
In  the  mysterious  stillness  of  the  morning  her 
mind  looked  on  to  its  second  and  its  deeper 
design,  and  the  despicable  figure  of  the  swin- 
dler rose  before  her  in  a  new  view. 

She  tried  to  shut  him  out — to  feel  above  him 
and  beyond  him  again,  as  she  had  felt  up  to 
this  time. 

After  a  little  trifling  with  her  dress,  she  took 
from  her  bosom  the  white  silk  bag  which  her 
own  hands  had  made  on  the  farewell  night  at 
Combe- Raven.  It  drew  together  at  the  mouth 
with  delicate  silken  strings.  The  first  thing 
she  took  out  on  opening  it  was  a  lock  of 
Frank's  hair,  tied  with  a  morsel  of  silver 
thnsad ;  the  next  was  a  sheet  of  paper  con- 
taining the  extracts  which  she  had  copied  from 
her  father's  will  and  her  father's  letter;  the 


NO  NAME. 


8S 


l.ast  was  a  closely  folded  packet  of  bank-notes, 
to  the  value  of  nearly  two  hundred  pounds — 
the  produce  (as  Miss  Garth  had  rightly  con- 
jectured) of  the  sale  of  her  jewelry  and  her 
dresses,  in  which  the  servant  at  the  hoarding- 
school  had  privately  assisted  her.  She  put 
back  the  notes  at  once,  without  a  second  glance 
at  thcin,  and  then  sat  looking  thoughtfully  at 
the  lock  of  hair  as  it  lay  on  her  lap.  "  You 
are  better  than  nothing,"  she  said,  speaking  to 
it  with  a  girl's  fanciful  tenderness.  "  I  can  sit 
and  look  at  you  sometimes  till  I  almost  think  I 
am  looking  at  Frank.  Oh,  my  darling !  my 
darling !"  Pier  voice  faltered  softly,  and  she 
put  tiie  lock  of  hair,  with  a  languid  gentleness, 
to  her  lips.  Jt  fell  from  her  fingers  into  her 
bosom.  A  lovely  tinge  of  color  rose  on  her 
checks,  and  spread  downward  to  her  neck,  as 
if  it  (bllowed  the  falling  hair.  She  closed  her 
eyes,  and  let  her  fair  head  droop  softly.  The 
world  passed  from  her,  and  for  one  enchanted 
moment  Love  opened  the  gates  of  Paradise  to 
the  daughter  of  Eve. 

The  ti  i\  iai  noises  in  the  neighboring  street, 
gathering  in  number  as  the  morning  advanced, 
loreed  her  back  to  the  hard  realities  of  the 
passing  time.  Siie  raised  her  head  with  a 
heavy  .*igh,  and  oj)ened  her  eyes  once  more  on 
the  mean  and  miserable  little  room. 

The  extracts  from  the  will  and  the  letter — 
those  last  memorials  of  her  father,  now  so 
.closely  as.sociated  with  the  purpose  which  had 
possession  of  her  mind  —  still  lay  before  her. 
The  transient  color  faded  from  her  face  as  she 
spread  the  litth'  manuscript  open  on  her  lap. 
The  extracts  from  the  will  stood  iiighest  on  the 
page;  they  were  limited  to  tho.se  few  touching 
words  in  which  the  dead  father  begged  his 
children's  forgiveness  for  the  stain  on  their 
birth,  and  implored  them  to  remember  the  un- 
tiring love  and  care  by  Avhich  he  had  striven 
to  atone  for  it.  The  extract  from  the  letter 
to  Mr.  Pen<lril  came  next.  She  read  the  last 
melancholy  sentences  aloud  to  herself:  "  P^or 
God's  sake,  come  on  the  day  when  you  receive 
this — come  and  relieve  me  from  the  dreadful 
thought  that  my  two  darling  girls  are  at  this 
moment  unprovided  for.  If  anything  happened 
to  me,  and  if  my  desire  to  do  their  mother 
justice  ended  (through  my  mi.'^eraMe  ignoranf-e 
of  the  law)  in  leaving  Norah  and  Magdalen 
disinherited,  I  shouhi  not  rest  in  my  grave !" 
Under  these  lines  again,  and  close  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  page,  wa,s  written  the  t<'rrible  <om- 
mentary  on  that  letter  which  had  fallen  from 
Mr.  rcndril's  lips  :  "  Mr.  Vanstone's  daufrhters 
are  Nol>ody's  Cliildren,  and  the  law  leaves 
them  helpless  at  their  uncle's  mercy." 

Ueipless  when  those  words  were  spoken — 
helpless  still,  after  all  that  she  had  resolved, 
after  all  that  she  had  sacrificed.  The  assertion 
of  her  natural  rights  and  her  sister's  sanctioned 
by  the  direct  expression  of  her  father's  last 
wish(s;  the  recall  of  Frank  from  China;  the 
justification  of  her  flesertion  of  Norah  —  all 
hung  on  her  desperate  purpose  of  njcovering 


the  lost  inheritance,  at  any  risk,  from  the  man 
who  had  beggared  and  insulted  his  brother's 
children.  And  that  man  was  still  a  shadow  to 
her  !  So  little  did  she  know  of  him  that  she 
was  even  ignorant  at  that  moment  of  his  place 
of  abode. 

She  rose,  and  paeed  the  room  with  the  noise- 
less, negligent  grace  of  a  wild  creature  of  the 
forest  in  its  cage.  "  How  ean  [  reach  him  in 
the  dark?"  she  said  to  herself.  "How  can  I 
find  out — V"  She  stopped  suddenly.  Before 
the  question  had  shaped  itself  to  an  end  in  her 
thoughts  Captain  Wragg(>  was  baek  in  her 
mind  again. 

A  man  well  used  to  working  in  the  dark ;  a 
man  with  endless  resources  of  audacity  and 
cunning;  a  man  who  would  hesitate"  at  no  mean 
employment  that  could  be  offered  to  him,  if  it 
was  employment  that  filled  his  pockets — was 
this  the  instrument  for  which,  in  its  present 
nee<l,  her  hand  was  waiting?  Two  of  the  ne- 
cessities to  be  met,  before  she  could  take  a 
single  step  in  advance,  were  jjlainly  present  to 
her  —  the  necessity  of  knowing  more  of  her 
father's  b?-other  than  she  knew  now,  and  the 
necessity  of  throwing  him  off  his  guard  by  con- 
cealing herself  personally  during  the  process 
of  inquiry.  Resolutely  self-(le|)endent  as  she 
was,  the  inevitable  spy's  work  at  the  outset 
must  be  work  delegated  to  another.  In  her 
position  was  there  any  ready  human  creature 
within  reach  but  the  vagabond  down  stairs? 
Not  one.  She  thought  of  it  anxiously,  she 
thought  of  it  long.  Not  one!  There  the  choice 
was,  steadily  confronting  her :  the  choice  of 
taking  the  Rogue  or  of  turning  her  back  on 
I  the  Purpose. 

She   paused    in    the    middle   of   the   room. 

"  AVhat  can  he  do  at  his  worst  ?"  she  said  to 

!  herself.      "  Che.it  me.      Well  I   if  my  money 

'  governs  him  for  me,  what  then  !     Ivf  t  him  have 

my  money!"      She  returned  mechanically  to 

j  her  place  by  the  window.     A  moment  more 

!  deci<led  her.     A  moment  more,  and  she  took 

the  first  fatal  stejj  downward — .she  determined 

to  face  the  risk  and  try  Cajitain  Wragge. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  landlady  knocked  at 
Magdalen's  door,  and  informed  her  (with  the 
captain's  kind  compliments)  that  breakfast  wai| 
ready.  A 

She  found  Mrs.  Wragge  alone,  attirfnl  in  a 
j  voluminous  brown  Holland  wrapper,  with  a 
limp  cape  and  a  trimming  of  dingy  pink  rib- 
bon. The  ex-waitress  at  Darch's  Dining- 
Rooms  was  absorbed  in  the  crmtemplation  of  a 
large  dish,  containing  a  leathery  hwking  sub- 
stance of  a  mottled  yellow  color,  profusely 
sprinkled  with  little  bla<  k  spots. 

"There  it  is  I"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "Ome- 
lette with  herbs.  The  landlady  helped  me. 
And  that's  what  wc  'vc  made  of  it.  Don't 
you  ask  the  captain  for  any  when  he  comei 
in — don't — there  's  a  good  soul !  It  isn't  nice. 
We  had  some  a<"eid('nfs  with  it.  It  '•  been 
under   the  grate.      It's  Wen   spilled  on   the 


34 


NO  NAME. 


stairs.  It  's  scalded  the  landlady's  younjrest 
boy — he  went  and  sat  on  it.  Bless  you,  it  isn't 
half  as  nice  as  it  looks !  Don't  you  ask  for 
;any.  Perhaps  he  won't  notice  if  you  say  noth- 
ing about  it.  What  do  you  think  of  my  wrap- 
per? I  should  so  like  to  have  a  white  one! 
Have  you  got  a  white  one  ?  How  is  it  triuimedy 
Do  tell  me !" 

The  formidable  entrance  of  the  captain  sus- 
pended the  ne.xt  question  on  her  lips.  For- 
tunately for  Mrs.  Wragge  lier  husband  was  far 
-too  an.xious  for  the  promised  expression  of 
Magdalen's  decision  to  pay  iiis  customary  atten- 
tion to  questions  of  cookery.  When  break- 
fast was  over  he  dismissed  Mrs.  W^ragge,  and 
merely  referred  to  the  omelette  by  tolling  her 
that  she  had  his  full  permission  to  "give  it  to 
the  dog." 

"  How  does  my  little  proposal  look  by  day- 
light ?"  he  asked,  placing  chairs  for  Magdalen 
and  liimself.  "  Which  is  it  to  be  :  *  Captain 
Wragge,  take  charge  of  me  ?'  or,  '  Captain 
Wragge,  good  morning  ?'  " 

"  You  shall  hear  directly,"  replied  Magda- 
len. "  I  have  something  to  say  first.  I  toid 
you  last  night  tliat  I  had  another  object  in 
view  besides  the  object  of  earning  my  living 
on  the  stage — " 

"  ^  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Captain 
Wragge.    "  Did  you  say,  earning  your  living?" 

"  Certainly.  Both  my  sister  and  myself 
must  depend  on  our  owij  exertions  to  gain  our 
daily  bread." 

"  What ! ! !"  cried  the  captain,  starting  to 
his  feet  with  a  blank  stare  of  dismay.  "  The 
daughters  of  my  wealthy  and  lanient<!d  rela-  ! 
tive  by  marriage  reduced  to  earn  their  own  j 
living?  Impossible  —  wild!>',  extravagantly 
impossible!"  He  .sat  down  .gain,  and  looked 
at  Magdalen  as  if  she  had  iiirticted  a  personal 
injury  on  him. 

"  You  are  not  acquainted  with  the  full  ex- 
tent of  our  misfortune,"  she  said,  quietly.  ^' I 
will  tell  you  what  has  liappened  before  I  go 
any  farther."  She  told  linn  at  once,  in  tlu' 
plainest  terms  .she  coulil  find,  and  with  as  few 
details  as  possible. 

Captain  Wragge's  profound  bewilderment 
left  him  conscious  of  hut  one  distinct  result, 
produced  by  the  narrative  on  his  own  mind, 
'he  lawyer's  olfer  of  Fifty  Pounds  Reward' 
ior  the  missing  young  lady  ascendeil  instantly 
to  a  place  in  his  estimation  which  it  had  never 
-occupied  until  that  moment. 

*»  Do  I  understand,"  he  intjuired,  "  that  you 
are  entirely  deprived  of  present  resources  ?" 

"I  bave  sold  my  jewelry  and  my  dresses," 
said  Magdalen,  impatient  of  his  mean  harping 
on  the  pecuniary  string.  "  If  my  want  of  ex- 
perience keeps  me  back  in  a  theatre  I  can 
afford  to  wait  till  the  stage  can  afford  to  pay 
me." 

Captain  Wragge  mentally  apprized  the  rings, 
bracelets,  and  necklaces,  the  silks,  satins,  and 
laces  of  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  of  for- 
tune, at- — say, a  third  of  their  real  value.     In 


a  moment  more  the  Fifty  Pounds  Reward  sud- 
denly sank  again  to  the  lowest  depths  in  the 
deep'  estimation  of  this  judicious  man. 

"  Just  so,"  he  said,  in  his  most  business-like 
manner.  "  There  is  not  the  least  fear,  my  dear 
girl,  of  vour  being  kept  back  in  a  theatre  if 
\ou  possess  present  resources,  and  if  you  profit 
by  my  assistance." 

"  I  must  accept  more  assistance  than  you 
have  already  offered  or  none,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  I  have  more  serious  difficulties  before  me 
than  the  difficulty  of  leaving  York,  and  the 
difliculty  of  finding  my  way  to  the  stage." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  I  am  all  attention ; 
pray  explain  yourself" 

She  considered  her  next  words  carefully 
before  they  passed  her  lips. 

"  There  are  certain  inquiries,"  she  said, 
"  which  I  am  interested  in  making.  If  I  under- 
took them  mj'self,  I  should  excite  the  suspicion 
of  the  person  inquired  after,  and  should  learn 
little  or  nothing  of  what  I  wish  to  know.  If 
the  inquiries  could  be  made  by  a  stranger, 
without  my  being  seen  in  the  matter,  a  service 
would  be  rendered  me  of  much  greater  im- 
portance than  the  service  you  offered  last 
night." 

Captain  Wragge's  vagabond  face  became 
gravely  and  deeply  attentive. 

"  May  I  ask,"  1*6  said,  "what  the  nature  of 
the  inquiries  is  likely  to  be?" 

Magdalen  paused.  She  had  necessarily  men- 
tioned Michael  Vanstone's  name  in  informing 
the  captain  of  the  loss  of  her  inheritance. 
She  must  inevitably  mention  it  to  him  again  if 
she  employed  his  services.  Hs;  would  doubtle&n 
discover  it  for  himself,  by  a  plain  process  of 
inference,  before  she  said  many  words  more, 
frame  them  as  carefully  as  she  might.  Under 
these  circumstances  was  there  any  intelligible 
reason  for' shrinking  from  direct  reference  to 
Michael  Vanstone  ?  No  intelligible  reason — 
and  yet  she  shrank. 

"  For  instance,"  pursued  Captain  Wragge, 
"are  they  inquiries  about  a  man  or  a  woman, 
inquiries  about  an  enemy  or  a  friend — ?" 

"  An  enemy,"  she  ansv/ered,  quickly. 

Her  reply  might  still  have  kept  the  cap- 
tain in  the  dark,  Init  her  eyes  enlightened 
him.  "  Michael  V^anstone  !"  thought  the  wary 
Wragge.  "  She  looks  dangerous  5  I  '11  feel  my 
way  a  little  farther." 

"  With  regard,  now,  to  the  person  who  is 
the  object  of  these  inquiries,"  he  resumed. 
"  Are  you  thoroughly  clear  in  your  own  mind 
about  what  you  want  to  know  ?" 

"  Perfectly  clear,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  I 
want  to  know  where  he  lives,  to  begin  with." 

"  Yes  ?     And  after  that  ?" 

"  I  want  to  know  about  his  habits ;  about 
who  the  people  are  whom  he  associates  with ; 
about  what  he  does  with  his  money — "  She 
considered  a  little.  "And  one  thing  more," 
she  said;  "I  want  to  know  whether  there  ia 
any  woman  about  his  house — a  relation  or  a 
housekeeper — who  has  an  influence  over  him." 


NO  NAME. 


85 


"  Harmless  enough  so  far,"  said  the  captain. 
"  What  next  ?" 

"  Nothing.     The  rest  is  my  secret." 

The  clouds  on  Captain  Wragpos  counte- 
nance began  to  clear  away  again.  He  reverted 
with  his  customary  precision  to  his  customary 
choice  of  alternatives.  "  These  inquiries  of 
hers,"  he  thought,  "mean  one  of  two  things — 
Mischief  or  Money  !  If  it 's  Mis-bicf,  I  'II  slip 
through  her  fingers.  If  it 's  Money,  I  '11  make 
myself  useful,  with  a  view  to  the  future." 

Magdalen's  vigilant  eyes  watclied  the  prog-  I 
ress  of  his  reflections  suspiciously.    "  Captain  j 
Wra"gc,"  slie  said,  "  if  you  want  time  to  con- 
sider, say  so  plainly." 

"  I  don't  want  a  moment,"  replied  the  cap- 
tain. "  Place  your  departure  from  York,  your 
dramatic  career,  and  your  private  inquiries 
under  my  care.  Here  I  am,  unreservedly  at 
your  disposal.  Say  the  word — do  you  t;ike  meV" 

Her  heart  beat  fast,  her  lips  turned  dry,  but 
she  said  the  word. 

"  I  do." 

There  was  a  pause.  Magdalen  sat  silent, 
struggling  with  the  vague  dread  of  the  future 
whiili  had  been  roused  in  her  mind  by  her 
own  reply.  Captain  Wragge,  on  his  side,  was 
apparently  absorbed  in  the  consideration  of  a 
new  set  of  alternatives.  His  hands  descended 
into  his  empty  pockets,  and  prophetically 
tested  their  capacity  as  receptacles  for  gold 
and  silver.  Ihe  brightness  of  the  precious 
nu'tals  was  in  his  face,  the  smoothness  of  the 
precious  metals  was  in  his  voice,  as  he  pro- 
vided himself  with  a  new  supply  of  words, 
and  resumed  the  conversation. 

"  The  next  question,"  he  said,  "  is  the  ques- 
tion of  time.  D6  these  confidential  investiga- 
tions of  ours  require  immediate  attention,  or 
can  they  wait  ?" 

"  For  the  present  they  can  wait,"  replied 
.Magdalen.  "  I  wish  to  secure  my  freedom 
from  all  interference  on  the  part  of  my  friends 
before  th.c  inquiries  arc  made." 

"  ^'crv  good.  The  first  step  toward  accom- 
plishing that  object  is  to  beat  our  retreat — ex- 
cuse a  professional  metaphor  from  a  military 
man  —  to  beat  our  retreat  from  York  to-mor- 
row. I  sec  my  way  plainly  so  far;  but  I  am 
all  abroad,  as  we  used  to  say  in  the  militia, 
about  my  marching  orders  afterward.  The 
next  direction  we  take  ought  to  be  chosen 
with  .in  (ye  to  advancing  your  dramatic  views. 
1  am  all  ready,  when  I  know  what  \()ur  views 
are.  How  came  you  to  think  of  the  theatre 
at  all  V  I  see  the  Ba<;red  fire  burning  in  you  ; 
tell  me,  who  lit  it  V" 

Magdalen  could  only  answer  him  in  one 
way.  .She  could  only  ]o<tk  hack  at  the  days 
that  were  gone  for  ever,  and  tell  him  the  story 
of  her  first  st(^  toward  the  !«tage  at  Ever- 
green Ixxlge.  Captain  Wragge  listened  with 
his  usual  politeness,  but  he  evidently  derived 
no  satisfactory  impression  from  what  he  heard. 
Audiences  of  friends  were  audiences  whom  he 


privately  declined  to  trust,  ami  the  opinion  of 
the  stage-manager  was  the  opinion  of  a  man 
who  spoke  with  his  fee  in  his  pocket  and  his 
eye  on  a  future  engagement. 

"  Interesting,  deeply  interesting,"  he  said, 
when  Magdalen  had  done ;  "  but  not  conclu- 
sive to  a  practical  man.  A  specimen  of  your 
abilities  is  ne.cessaJ'y  to  enlighten  me.  I  have 
been  on  the  stage  myself;  the  comedy  of  The 
Rivals  is  familiar  to  me  from  beginning  to  end. 
A  sample  is  all  I  want,  if  you  have  not  for- 
gotten the  words  —  a  sample  of  *  Lucy,'  and  a 
sample  of  '  Julia.'  " 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  the  words,"  said  ^lag- 
dalen,  sorrowfully;  "and  I  have  the  little 
books  with  me  in  which  my  dialogue  was 
written  out.  I  have  never  partc.'d  with  them  ; 
they  remind  me  of  a  time — "  Her  lip  trembled, 
ami  a  pang  of  the  heartache  silenced  her. 

"  Nervous,"  remarked  the  captain,  indul- 
gently. "  Not  at  all  a  bad  sign.  The  great- 
est actresses  on  the  stage  are  nervous.  Follow 
their  example,  and  get  over  it.  Where  are 
the  parts?  Oh,  here  they  are  !  Very  nicely 
written,  and  remarkably  clean.  I  'II  give  you 
the  cues  —  it  will  all  be  over  (as  the  dentists 
say)  in  no  time.  Take  the  back  drawing-room 
for  the  stage,  and  take  me  for  the  audience. 
Tingle  goes  the  bell,  up  runs  the  curtain, 
order  in  the  gallery,  silence  in  the  pit  —  enter 
Lucy !" 

She  tried  hard  to  control  herself;  she  forced 
back  the  sorrow  —  the  innocent,  natural,  hu- 
man sorrow  for  the  absent  and  the  dead — 
pleading  hard  with  her  for  the  tears  that  she 
relused.  Resolutely,  with  cold,  clenched  hands, 
she  tried  to  begin.  As  the  first  familiar  words 
passed  her  lips  Frank  came  back  to  her  from 
the  sea,  and  the  face  of  her  ih-ad  father  looked 
at  her  with  the  smile  of  happy  old  times.  The 
voices  of  her  mother  and  her  sister  talked 
gentlj'  in  the  fragrant  country  stillness,  and 
the  garden -walks  at  Combe- Raven  opened 
once  more  on  her  view.  With  a  faint  wailing 
cry  she  dropped  into  a  chair,  her  head  fell 
forward  on  the  table,  and  she  burst  passion- 
ately into  tears. 

Captain  Wragge  was  on  his  feet  in  a  mo- 
ment. She  shuddered  as  he  came  near  her, 
and  waved  him  ba<k  vehemently  with  her 
hand.  "  Leave  mt; !"  she  said  ;  "  leave  me  a 
minute  by  myself!"  The  compliant  Wragge 
retired  to  the  front  room,  look«'d  out  of  win- 
dow, and  whistled  under  his  breath.  "  The 
family  spirit  again  !"  he  said.  "  Complicated 
by  hysterics." 

After  waiting  a  minute  or  two  he  returned 
to  make  inciuines. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  offer  you  ?" 
he  asked.  "Cold  water?  burned  feathers? 
smelling  salts?  mudical  a.<sistance?  Shall  I 
summon  Mrs.  Wragge  ?  Shall  wc  put  it  off 
till  to-morrow  ?' 

She  started  up,  wild  and  flushed,  with  a 
desperate  self-command  in  her  face,  with  an 
angry  resolution  in  her  manner. 


86 


NO  NAME. 


"  No !"  she  said.  "  I  must  harden  myself— 
and  I  will!     Sit  down  again  and  see  me  act." 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  captain.  "Dash  at  it, 
my  beauty,  and  it  's  done  !" 

She  dashed  at  it  with  a  mad  defiance  of  her- 
self, with  a  raised  voice  and  a  glow  like  fever 
in  her  cheeks.  All  the  artless,  girlish  charm 
of  the  performance  in  happier  and  better  days 
was  gone.  The  native  dramatic  capacity  that 
was  in  her  came,  hard  and  bold,  to  the  surface, 
stripped  of  every  softening  allurement  which 
had  once  adorned  it.  She  would  have  sad- 
dened and  disappointed  a  man  with  any  de- 
licacy of  feeling.  She  absolutely  electrified 
Captain  Wragge.  He  forgot  his  politeness; 
he  forgot  his  long  words.  The  essential  spirit 
of  the  man's  whole  vagabond  life  burst  out  of 
him  irresistibly  in  his  first  exclamation.  "Who 
the  devil  would  have  thought  it?  She  can 
act,  after  all!"  The  instant  the  words  es- 
caped his  lips  he  recovered  himself,  and  glided 
oft'  into  his  ordinary  colloquial  channels.  Mag- 
dalen stopped  him  in  the  middle  of  his  first 
compliment.  "  No,"  she  said  ;  "I  have  forced 
the  truth  out  of  you  for  once.  I  want  no 
more." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  the  incorrigible 
Wragge.  "  You  want  a  little  instruction, 
and  I  am  the  man  to  give  it  you."      ^ 

With  that  answer  he  placed  a  chair  for  her, 
and  proceeded  to  explain  himself 

She  sat  down  in  silence.  A  sullen  indiffer- 
ence began  to  show  itself  in  her  manner ;  her 
♦iheeks  turned  pale  again,  and  her  eyes  looked 
wearily  vacant  at  the  wall  before  her.  Cap- 
tain A\'"ragge  noted  these  signs  of  heart-sick- 
ness and  discontent  with  herself  after  the  effort 
she  had  made,  and  saw  the  importance  of 
rousing  her  by  speaking  for  once  plainly  and 
directly  to  the  point.  She  had  set  a  new  value 
on  herself  in  his  mercenary  eyes.  She  had 
suggested  to  him  a  speculation  in  her  youth, 
her  beauty,  and  her  marked  ability  for  the 
stage  which  had  never  entered  his  mind  until 
he  saw  her  act.  The  old  militia -man  was 
quick  at  his  shifts.  He  and  his  plans  had 
both  turned  right  about  together  when  Mag- 
dalen sat  down  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Mr.  Huxtable's  opinion  is  my  opinion,"  he 
began.  "You  are  a  born  actress.  But  you 
must  be  trained  before  you  can  do  anything 
on  the  stage.  I  am  disengaged  —  I  am  com- 
petent—  I  have  trained  others  —  I  can  train 
you.  Don't  trust  my  word:  trust  my  eye  to 
my  own  interest.  I  'II  make  it  my  interest  to 
take  pains  with  you,  and  to  be  quick  about  it. 
You  shall  pay  me  for  my  instructions  from 
your  profits  on  the  stage.  Half  your  salary 
tor  the  first  year ;  a  third  of  your  salarj)  for 
the  second  year ;  and  half  the  sum  you  clear 
by  your  first  benefit  in  a  London  theatre. 
What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  Have  I  made  it 
my  interest  to  push  you,  or  have  I  not  ? 

So  far  as  appearances  went,  and  so  far  as 
the  stage  went,  it  was  plain  that  he  had 
linked  his  interests  and  Magdalen's  together. 


She  briefly  told  him  so,  and  waited  to  hear 
more. 

"  A  month  or  six  weeks  study,"  continued 
the  captain,  "  will  give  me  a  reasonable  idea 
of  what  you  can  do  best.  All  ability  runs  in 
grooves,  and  your  groove  remains  to  be  found. 
We  can't  find  it  here,  for  we  can't  keep  you  a 
close  prisoner  for  weeks  together  in  Rosemary 
Lane.  A  quiet  country  place,  secure  from 
all  interference  and  interruption,  is  the  place 
we  want  for  a  month,  certain.  Trust  my 
knowledge  of  Yorkshire,  and  consider  the 
place  found.  I  see  no  difficulties  anywhere, 
except  the  diflSculty  of  beating  our  retreat 
to-morrow." 

"  I  thought  your  arrangements  were  made 
last  night  ?"  said  Magdalen. 

"  Quite  right,"  rejoined  the  captain.  "  They 
were  made  last  night,  and  here  they  are.  We 
can't  leave  by  railway,  because  the  lawyer's 
clerk  is  sure  to  be  on  the  look-out  for  you  at 
the  York  terminus.  Very  good ;  we  take  to 
the  road  instead,  and  leave  in  our  own  car- 
riage. Where  the  deuce  do  we  get  it  ?  We 
get  it  from  the  landlady's  brother,  who  has  a 
horse  and  chaise  which  he  lets  out  for  hire. 
That  chaise  conicg  to  the  end  of  Ro.semary 
Lane  at  an  early  hour  to-morrow  morning. 
I  take  my  wife  and  my  niece  out  to  show 
them  the  beauties  of  the  neighborhood.  We 
have  a  picnic  hamper  with  us  which  marks 
our  purpose  in  the  public  eye.  You  disfigure 
yourself  in  a  shawl,  bonnet,  and  veil  of  Mrs. 
Wragge's;  we  turn  our  backs  on  York,  and 
away  we  drive  on  a  pleasure-trip  for  the  day 
—  you  and  I  on  the  front  seat,  Mrs.  Wragge 
and  the  hamper  behind.  Good  again.  Once 
on  the  high-road  what  do  we  do  ?  Drive  to  the 
first  station  beyond  York,  northward,  south- 
ward, or  eastward,  as  may  be  hereafter  deter- 
mined. No  lawyer's  clerk  is  waiting  for  you 
there.  You  and  Mrs.  Wragge  get  out  —  first 
opening  the  ham{)er  at  a  convenient  oppor- 
tunity. Instead  of  containing  chickens  and 
Cliampagne,  it  contains  a  carpet-bag  with  the 
things  you  want  for  the  night.  You  take 
your  tickets  for  a  place  previously  determined 
on,  and  I  take  the  chaise  back  to  York.  Ai^ 
rived  once  more  in  this  house  I  collect  the 
luggage  left  behind,  and  send  for  the  woman 
down  stairs.  '  Ladies  so  charmed  with  such- 
and-such  a  place  (wrong  place,  of  course) 
that  they  have  determined  to  stop  there. 
Pray  accept  the  customary  week's  rent  in 
place  of  a  week's  warning.  Good-day.'  Is 
the  clerk  looking  for  me  at  the  York  ter- 
minus'? Not  he.  I  take  my  ticket  under  hb 
very  nose ;  I  follow  you  with  the  luggage 
along  your  line  of  railway  —  and  where  is 
the  trace  left  of  your  departure  ?  Nowhere. 
The  fairy  has  vanished,  and  the  legal  autliori- 
ties  are  left  in  the  lurch." 

"  Why  do  you  talk  of  difftulties  ?"  asked 
Magdalen;  "the  difficulties  seem  to  be  pro- 
vided for." 

"  All  but  ONE,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  with 


NO  NAME. 


8% 


an  ominous  emphasis  on  the  last  word.  "  The 
Grand  Difficulty  of  humanity  fronvthe  cradle 
to  the  grave  —  Money."  He  .slowly  winked 
his  green  eye,  sighed  with  deep  feeling,  and 
buried  his  insolvent  hands  in  his  unproductive 
pockets. 

"  Wliat  is  the  money  wanted  for?"  inquired 
Mag<lalen. 

"To  pay  my  bills,"  replied  the  captain, 
with  a  touching  simplicity.  "  Pray  under- 
stand !  I  never  was,  and  never  shall  be,  per- 
sonally desirous  of  paying  a  single  farthing  to 
any  human  creature  on  the  habitable  globe. 
I  am  .sj)eaking  in  your  interests,  not  In  mine." 

"  My  interes^ts  V" 

"  Certainly.  You  can't  get  safely  away 
from  York  to-morrow  without  the  chaise.  And 
1  can't  get  the  chaise  without  money.  The 
landlady's  brother  will  lend  it,  if  he  sees  his 
sister's  bill  receipted,  and  if  he  gets  his  day's 
hire  beforehand  —  not  otherwi.<e.  Allow  me 
to  put  the  transaction  in  a  business  light. 
We  have  agrec^d  that  1  am  to  be  remunerated 
for  my  course  of  dramatic  instruction  out  of 
your  future  earnings  on  the  stage.  Very 
good.  I  merely  draw  on  my  future  pros- 
pects; and  you,  on  whom  those  prospects 
depend,  are  naturally  my  banker.  For  mere 
argument's  sake  estimate  my  share  in  your 
first  year's  salary  at  the  totally  inadequate 
value  of  a  hundred  pounds.  Halve  that  sum; 
quarter  that  sum — " 

•'  How  much  do  you  want?"  said  Magdalen, 
imj)atiently. 

Captain  Wragge  was  sorely  tempted  to 
take  the  Reward  at  the  top  of  the  hand-bills 
as  his  basis  of  calculation.  But  he  felt  the 
vast  future  importance  of  present  moderation; 
and,  actually  wanting  some  twelve  or  thirteen 
pounds,  he  merely  doubled  the  amount  and 
said,  "  Five-and-twenty."  ' 

JNlagdalen  took  the  little  bag  from  her 
bosom  and  gave  him  the  money,  with  a  con- 
temptuous wonder  at  the  number  of  words 
Avhich  he  had  wasted  on  her  for  the  pur])ose 
of  cheating  on  so  small  a  scale.  In  the  old 
days  at  Combe-Raven  five-and-twenty  pounds 
flowed  from  a  stroke  of  her  father's  pen  into 
the  hands  of  any  one  in  the  house  who  chose 
to  ask  lor  it. 

Captain  Wragge's  eyes  dwelt  on  the  little 
bag  as  the  eyes  of  lovers  dwell  on  their  mis- 
tresses. "  Hap])y  bag  !"  he  murmured,  as  she 
jiut  it  back  in  lier  bosom.  He  rose,  dived 
into  a  corner  of  the  room,  produced  his  neat 
dispatch-box,  and  solemnly  .unlocked  it  on  the 
table  between  Magilalen  and  himself 

"The  nature  of  the  man,  my  dear  girl  — 
the  nature  of  the  man,"  he  said,  opening  one 
of  his  plump  little  books  bound  in  calf  and 
vellum.  "  A  transaction  has  taken  place  be- 
tween us.  I  must  have  it  down  in  black  and 
white."'  He  opened  the  book  at  a  blank  page 
and  wrote  at  the  top,  in  a  fine  mercantile 
hand:  ^^  Miss  Vanstone  the  Younger:  In  ac- 
count with  Horatio  Wrayge,  late  of  the  Royal 


Militia.  Dr—C--  Sept.  24,  1846.  Dr-:  To 
ei^timated  value  of  II.  Wragge'.'f  interest  in 
Miss  V.'s  first  year's  salary  —  say  £'200.  C*"- 
By  paid  on  account  £2»."  Having  completed 
the  entry  —  and  having  also  shown,  by  doub- 
ling his  original  estimate  on  the  Debtor  side, 
that  Magdalen's  easy  comjiliance  with  his  de- 
mand on  her  had  not  been  thrown  away  on 
him  —  the  captain  pressed  his  blotting-paper 
over  the  wet  ink,  and  put  away  the  book  with 
the  '  air  of  a  man  who  had  clone  a  virtuous 
action,  and  who  was  above  boasting  about  it. 
j  "  Excuse  me  for  leaving  you  abruptly,"  he 
said.  •'  Time  is  of  importance  ;  I  must  make 
I  sure  of  the  chaise.  If  Mrs.  Wragge  comes  in 
I  tell  her  nothing  —  she  is  not  sharp  enough  to 
be  trusted.  If  she  presumes  to  ask  questions, 
extinguish  her  immediately.  You  have  only 
to  be  loud.  Pray  take  my  authority  into 
your  own  hands,  and  be  as  loud  with  Mrs. 
Wragge  as  I  am  !"  He  snatched  up  his  hat, 
bowed,  smiled,  and  tripped  out  of  the  room. 

Sensible  of  little  else  bat  of  the  i-elief  of 
being  alone,  feeling  no  more  distinct  impres- 
sion than  the  vague  sense  of  some  serious 
change  having  taken  place  in  herself  and  her 
position,  Magdalen  let  the  evtnts  of  the  morn- 
ing come  and  go  like  shadows  on  her  mind, 
and  waited  wearil}'  for  what  the  day  might 
bring  forth.  After  the  lapse  of  some  time 
the  door  opened  soflly.  The  giant  figure 
of  Mrs.  Wragge  stalked  into  the  room,  and 
stopped  opposite  Magdalen  in  solemn  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Where  are  your  Things  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Wragge,  with  a  burst  of  incontroliable  anx- 
iety. "  I  've  been  up  stairs  looking  in  your 
drawers.  Where  are  your  nightgowns  and 
nightcaps  ?  and  your  petticoats  and  stock- 
ings ?  and  your  hairpins  and  bear's  grease, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it?" 

"  My  luggage  is  left  at  the  railway-station," 
said  Magdalen. 

Mrs.  Wragge's  moon-face  brightened  dimly. 
Tiie  ineradicable  female  instinct  of  Curiosity 
tried  to  sparkle  in  her  faded  blue  eyes — fiick- 
ered  piteously — and  died  out. 

"  How  much  luggage?''  she  asked  confiden- 
tially. "  The  captain  's  gone  out.  Let  's  go 
and  get  it  !" 

"  ^Ii-s.  Wragge  !"  cried  a  terrible  voice  at 
the  door. 

For  the  first  time  in  Magdalen's  experi- 
ence Mrs.  AA'ragge  was  deaf  to  the  customary 
stimulant.  She  actually  ventured  on  a  feeble 
remonstrance  in  tlic  presence  of  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  do  let  her  have  her  Things ! '  {)leaded 
Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Oh,  poor  soul,  do  let  her 
have  her  Tilings!" 

The  captain's  inexorable  forefinger  pointed 
to  a  corner  of  the  room,  dropped  slovrly  as 
his  wife  retired  before  it,  and  suddenly  stopped 
at  the  region  of  her  shoes. 

"  Do  I  hear  a  clapping  on  the  floor  !"  e.\- 
claimed  Cajitain  Wragge,  witjj  an  expression 
of  horror.     "  Yes,  I  do.     Down  at  heel  again  I 


88 


NO  NAME. 


The  left  shoe  this  time.  Pull  it  up,  Mrs. 
Wragge,  pull  it  up  !  The  chaise  will  be  here 
to-morrow  morning  at  nine  o'clock,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  Magdalen.  "  We  can't  jjo.s- 
sibly  venture  on  claiming  your  box.  Tliere 
is  note-paper.  Write  down  a  list  of  the  nec- 
essaries you  want.  I  will  take  it  myself  to 
the  shop,  pay  the  bill  for  you,  and  bring  back 
the  parcel.  We  must  sacrifice  the  box  —  we 
must,  indeed." 

While  her  husband  was  addressing  Magda- 
len Mrs.  Wragge  had  stolen  out  again  from 
her  corner,  and  had  ventured  near  enough  to 
the  captain  to  hear  the  words  "shop'  and 
"  parcel."  She  clapped  her  great  hands  to- 
gether in  ungovernable  excitement,  and  lost 
all  control  over  herself  immediately. 

"  Oh,  if  it  's  shopping,  let  me  do  it !"  cried 
Mrs.  Wragge.  "  She  's  going  out  to  buy  her 
Things!  Oh,  lot  me  go  with  her  — please  let 
me  go  with  her !" 

"  Sit  down  !'  shouted  the  captain.  "Straight ! 
more  to  the  right  —  more  still.  Stop  where 
you  are!" 

Mrs.  Wragge  crossed  her  helpless  hands  on 
her  lap  and  melted  meekly  i:^to  tears. 

"  I  do  so  like  shopping,"  pleaded  the  poor 
creature,  "  and  I  get  so  little  of  it  now  !" 

Magdalen  completed  her  list,  and  Captain 
Wragge  at  once  left  the  room  with  it.  "  Don't 
let  my  wife  bore  you,"  he  said,  pleasantly,  as 
he  went  out.  "Cut  her  short,  poor  soul  — 
cut  her  short !" 


"  Don't  cry,"  said  Magdalen,  trying  to  com- 
fort Mrs.  Wragge  by  patting  her  on  the  shoul- 
der. "  When  the  parcel  comes  back  you  shall 
open  it." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge, 
meekly  drying  her  eyes ;  "  thank  you  kindly. 
Don't  notice  my  handkerchief,  please.  It  '■ 
such  a  very  little  one  !  I  had  a  nice  lot  of 
'em  once  with  lace  borders.  They  're  all 
gone  now.  Never  mind !  It  will  comfort  me 
to  unpack  your  things.  You  're  very  good  to 
me.  I  like  you.  I  say — you  won't  be  angry, 
will  you  ?     Give  us  a  kiss." 

Magdalen  stooped  over  her  with  the  frank 
grace  and  gentleness  of  past  days,  and  touched 
her  faded  clieek.  "  Let  me  do  something 
harmless !"  slie  thought,  with  a  pang  at  her 
heart  —  "oh,  let  me  do  something  innocent 
and  kind  for  the  sake  of  old  times  1 ' 

She  felt  her  eyes  moistening,  and  silently 
turned  away. 

That  night  no  rest  came  to  her.  That 
night  the  roused  forces  of  Good  and  Evil  fought 
their  terrible  fight  for  her  soul,  and  left  the 
strife  between  them  still  in  suspense  when 
morning  came.  As  the  clock  of  York  Min- 
ster struck  nine  she  followed  Mrs.  Wragge  to 
the  chaise,  and  took  her  seat  by  the  captain's 
side.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  York 
was  in  the  distance,  and  the  high-road  lay 
bright  and  open  before  them  in  the  morning 
sunlight. 


THE  END  OF  THE  SECOXD  SCENE. 


BETWEEN    THE    SCENES. 


CHRONICLE  OF  EVENTS:    PRESERVED  IN 
CAPTAIN  WRAGGE'S  DISPATCH-BOX. 

I. 

[Chronu-lc  for  October,  1846.] 

I  have  retired  into  the  bosom  of  my  family. 
We  are  residing  in  the  secluded  Village  of 
Ruswarp,  on  the  banks  of  the  Esk,  about  two 
miles  inland  from  Whitby.  Our  lodgings  are 
comfortable,  and  we  possess  the  additional 
blessing  of  a  tidy  landlady.  Mrs.  Wragge 
and  Miss  Vanstone  preceded  me  here  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  plan  I  laid  down  for  effect- 
ing our  retreat  from  York.  On  the  next  day 
I  followed  them  alone  with  the  luggage.  On 
leaving  the  terminus,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  lawyer's  clerk  in  close  confabula- 
tion with  the  detective  officer  whose  advent  I 
had  prophesied.  I  left  him  in  peaceable  pos- 
sessioft  of  the  City  of  York,  and  the  whole 
surrounding  neighborhood.  He  has  returned 
the  compliment,  and  has  left  us  in  peaceable 
possession  of  the  Valley  of  the  Esk,  thirty 
miles  away  from  him. 


Remarkable  results  have  followed  my  first 
efforts  at  the  cultivation  of  Miss  Vanstone's 
dramatic  abilities. 

I  have  discovered  that  she  possesses  extra- 
ordinary talent  as  a  mimic.  She  has  the 
flexible  face,  the  manageable  voice,  and  the 
sharp  dramatic  perception  which  fit  a  woman 
for  character-parts  and  disguises  on  the  stage. 
All  she  now  wants  is  teaching  and  practice  to 
make  her  sure  of  her  own  resources.  The 
experience  of  her,  thus  gained,  has  revived  an 
idea  in  my  mind,  which  originally  occurred  to 
me  at  one  of  the  "  At  Homes  "  of  the  late 
inimitable  Charles  Mathews,  comedian.  I 
was  in  the  Wine  Trade  at  the  time,  I  remem- 
ber. We  imitated  the  Vintage-processes  of 
Nature  in  a  back  kitchen  at  Brompton ;  and 
produced  a  dinner-sherry,  pale  and  curious, 
tonic  in  character,  round  in  the  mouth,  a 
favorite  with  the  Court  of  Spain  at  nineteen 
and  sixpence  a  dozen,  bottles  included  —  Vid* 
Prospectus  of  the  period.  The  profits  of  my- 
self and  partners  were  small;  we  were  in 
advance  of  the  tEistes  of  the  age,  and  in  debt 


NO  NAME. 


8» 


to  the  bottle-merchant.  Bein<T  at  my  wit's 
end  for  want  of  money,  a,t\d  seeing  what 
audiences  Mathews  drew,  the'  idea  occurred 
to  me  of  starting  an  imitation  of  the  great 
Imitator  himself  in  the  ?iliape  of  an  "At  Home," 
given  by  a  Avoman.  The  one  trilling  obstacle 
in  the  way  was  the  dilliculty  of  finding  the 
woman.  From  that  time  to  this  I  have  hith- 
erto failed  to  ovei'come  it.  I  have  conquered 
it  at  last ;  I  have  found  the  woman  now.  ^liss 
Vanstone  possesses  youth  and  beauty  as  well 
as  talent.  Train  her  in  tiie  art  of  dramatic 
disguise,  provide  her  witii  appropriate  dresses 
for  ditfereut  characters,  develo])  her  accom- 
])lishniciits  in  singing  and  plixying,  give  her 
plenty  of  smart  talk  addressed  to  the  audience, 
advertise  her  as  A  Young  Lady  at  Home, 
astonish  the  public  by  a  dramatic  entertain- 
ment which  depends  from  first  to  last  on  that 
young  lady's  own  sole  exertions,  i-ommit  the 
entire  management  of  the  tiling  to  my  care — 
and  what  follows,  as  a  necessary  consequence? 
Fame  for  my  fair  relative,  and  a  fortune  for 
myself. 

1  put  these  considcratioiis,  as  frankly  as 
usual,  to  Miss  Vaustone,  dfl'ering  to  write  the 
Entertainment,  to  manage  all  the  business, 
and  to  share  the  profits.  I  did  not  forget  to 
strengthen  my  case  by  intbrming  her  of  the 
jealousies  siie  would  encounter  and  the  obsta- 
cles she  would  ineet  if  slie  went  on  the  stage. 
And  I  wound  up  b_v  a  neat  reference  to  the 
private  inquiries  which  she  is  interested  in 
m.dviug,  and  to  the  personal  indi-pendence 
Avhich  she  is  desirous  of  securing  beibre  she 
acts  on  her  information.  "  Tf  you  go  on  tlie 
stage,"  I  said,  '■  your  services  will  be  bought 
by  a  manager,  and  lie  may  insist  on  his  claims 
just  at  the  time  when  you  want  to  gi't  free 
from  him.  If.  on  the  contrary,  you  adopt  my 
views,  you  will  be  your  own  mistress  and  your 
own  manager,  and  you  can  settle  your  course 
just  as  you  like."  Tiiis  consideration  ap- 
peared to  strike  her.  She  took  a  day  to  con- 
sider it,  and  when  the  day  was  over  gave  her 
consent. 

I  hnd  the  wiiole  transaction  down  in  black 
and  white  immediately.  Our  arrangement  is 
emhiently  satistactory,  except  in  one  particu- 
lar. She  shows  a  morbid  distrust  of  writing 
her  name  at  the  bottom  of  any  document 
which  I  present  to  her,  and  roundly  declares 
she  will  sign  nothing.  As  long  as  it  is  her  in- 
terest to  ])rovide  hei-sclf  with  pecuniary  re- 
sources for  the  future,  she  verbally  engages  to 
go  on.  When  it  ceases  to  be  her  interest,  she 
plainly  threatens  to  leave  olf  at  a  week's  no- 
tice. A  difiicult  girl  to  deal  with;  she  has 
found  out  her  own  a  alue  to  me  already.  One 
comfort  is,  I  have  the  cooking  of  the  accounts; 
and  my  fair  relative  shall  not  till  her  pockets 
too  suddenly,  if  I  can  help  it. 

My  exertions  in  training  Miss  Vaustone  for 
the  coming  experiment  have  been  varied  by 
the  writing  of  two  anonymous  letters  in  that 
young  lady's  interests.     Finding  her  too  fidg-  I 
12 


ety  about  arranging  matters  with  her  friends 
to  pay  proper  attention  to  my  instructions,  I 
wrote  anonymously  to  the  lawyer  who  is  con- 
ducting the  inrpiiry  after  her,  recommending 
him  in  a  friendly  way  to  give  it  up.  The 
letter  was  inelosed  to  a  friend  of  mine  in  Lon- 
don, with  instructions  to  post  it  at  Chariuo- 
Cross.  A  week  later  I  sent  a  second  letter 
through  the  same  channel,  requesting  the 
lawyer  to  inform  me  in  writing  whether  he 
and  his  clients  had  or  had  not  decided  on 
taking  my  advice.  I  directed  him,  with  jo-  » 
cose  reference  to  the  collision  of  interests  be- 
tween us,  to  atldress  his  letter:  "  Tit  for  Tat, 
Post-odlce.,  West  Strand." 

In  a  few  days  the  answer  arrived — privately 
forwarded,  of  course,  to  Post-olHce,  Whitby, 
by  arrangement  with  my  friend  in  London. 

The  lawyer's  reply  was  short  and  surly  : 
"Sir  —  If  my  advice  had  been  tblloAved,  you 
and  your  anonymous  letter  would  both  be 
treated  with  the  contempt  which  they  deserve. 
But  the  wishes  of  Miss  Magdalen  ^'anstone'8 
eldest  sister  have  claims  on  my  consideration 
which  I  cannot  dispute;  and  at  her  entreaty 
I  inform  you  that. all  further  proceedings  on 
my  part  are  withdrawn — ontbe  express  un- 
derstanding that  this  concession  is  to  open 
facilities  for  written  communication,  at  least, 
between  the  two  sisters.  A  letter  from  the 
elder  Miss  Vanstone  is  inclosed  in  this.  If  I 
dou't  hear  in  a  week's  time  that  it  has  been 
received  I  shall  ])lace  the  matter  once  more 
in  the  hands  of  the  police. —  Willia.m  Pkx- 
nuiL."  A  sour  man  this  William  Pendril.  I 
can  only  say  of  iiim,  what  au  eminent  noble- 
man once  said  of  his  snllvv  servant,  "  I  wouldn't 
have  such  a  temper  as  that  tcllow  has  got  for 
any  earthly  consideration  that  could  be  oflfered 
me ! " 

As  a  matter  of  course  I  looked  into  the  let- 
ter which  the  lawyer  inclosed  before  deliver- 
ing it.  Miss  Vanstone  the  elder  described 
herself  as  distracted  at  not  hearing  from  her 
sister;  as  suited  with  a  governess's  situation 
in  a  private  family  ;  as  going  into  the  situa- 
tion in  a  week's  time ;  and  ;us  longing  for  a 
letter  to  comfort  her  beibre  she  faced  the  trial 
of  undertaking  her  new  duties.  Alter  closing 
the  envelope  again,  I  accompanied  the  deliv- 
ery of  the  letter  to  ^liss  Vanstone  the  younger 
by  a  word  of  caution.  "Arc  you  more  sure  of 
your  own  courage  now,"  I  said,  "  than  you 
were  when  I  met  you  ? "  She  was  ready 
with  her  answer.  "  Captain  Wragge,  when 
you  met  me  on  the  Walls  of  York  1  had  not 
gone  too  far  to  go  back,  I  have  gone  too  tar 
now." 

"  If  she  really  feels  this — and  I  think  she 
does — her  corresponding  with  her  sister  can 
do  no  harm.  She  wrote  at  great  length  the 
same  day,  cried  profusely  over  her  own  epis- 
tolatory  composition,  and  was  remarkably  ill- 
tem[)ered  and  snapjush  toward  me  when  we 
met  in  the  evenings  ,She  wants  experience, 
poor  girl — she  sadly  wants  e^tperience  of  the 


30 


NO  NAME. 


world.     How  consoling  to  know  that  I  am  just 
the  man  to  give  it  her ! " 

11. 

[Chronicle  for  November.^ 
We  are  established  at  Derby.  The  Enter- 
tainment is  written,  and  the  rehearsals  are  in 
stendy  progress.  All  difficulties  are  provided 
for  but  the  one  eternal  dilhculty  of  money. 
MissVaiistone's  resources  stretch  easily  enough 
to  the  limits  of  our  personal  wants ;  including 
piano-forte  hire  for  practice,  and  the  purchase 
and  making  of  i  lie  necessary  dresses.  But  the 
expenses  of  starting  the  Entertainment  are 
iDeyond  the  reach  of  any  means  we  possess. 
A  theatrical  friend  of  mine  here,  whom  I  had 
hoped  to  interest  in  our  undertaking,  proves 
unhappily  to  be  at  a  crisis  in  his  career.  The 
field  of  human  sympatliy.  out  of  which  I  might 
have  raised  the  needful  pecuniary  crop,  is 
closed  to  me  from  want  of  time  to  cultivate  it. 
I  see  no  other  resource  left — if  we  are  to  be 
ready  by  Ciiristmas — than  to  try  one  of  the 
local  music-sellers  in  this  town,  who  is  said  to 
be  a  speculating  man.  A  private  rehearsal 
at  these  lodgings,  and  a  bargain  which  will 
till  the  pockets  of  a  grasping  stranger — such 
are  the  sacrifices  which  dire  necessity  imposes 
on  me  at  starting.  Well  I  there  is  only  one 
consolation.     I'll  cheat  the  music-seller. 

III. 

[Chronicle  foy  December.     Firnt  Fortnif/ht.^ 

The  music-seller  extorts  ni}'  unwilling  re- 
spect. He  is  one  of  the  very  few  human  be- 
ings I  have  met  with  in  the  course  of  my  life 
who  is  not  to  be  cheated.  He  has  taken  a 
masterly  advantage  of  our  helpk-ssness,  and 
has  imposed  terms  on  us  for  perfoi-mances  at 
Derby  and  Nottingham,  with  such  a  business- 
like disregard  of  all  interests  but  his  own, 
that — fond  as  I  am  of  putting  things  down  in 
black  and  white — I  really  cannot  prevail  upon 
myself  to  record  the  bargain.  It  is  needless 
to  say  I  have  yielded  with  my  best  grace, 
sliaring  with  my  fair  relative  the  wretched 
pecuniary  prospects  ofTered  to  us.  Our  turn 
will  come.  In  the  meantime  I  cordially  re- 
gret not  having  known  the  local  music-seller 
in  early  life. 

Personally  speaking,  I  have  no  cause  to 
complain  of  Miss  Vanstone.  We  have  ar- 
ranged that  she  shall  regularly  forward  her 
address  (at  the  post-office)  to  her  friends  as 
.  we  move  about  from  place  to  place.  Besides 
communicating  in  this  way  with  her  sister, 
she  also  reports  herself  to  a  certain  Mr. 
Clare,  residing  in  Somersetshire,  who  is  to 
Ibrward  all  letters  exchanged  between  herself 
and  his  son.  Careful  inquiry  has  informed  me 
that  this  latter  individual  is  now  in  China. 
Having  siispected  from  the  first  that  there 
was  a  gentleman  in  the  back-ground,  it  is 
highly  satisfactory  to  know  that  he  recedes 
into  the  remote  perspective  of  Asia.  Long 
may  he  remain  there  ! 


The  trifling  responsibility  of  finding  a  name 
for  our  talented  Magdalen  to  perform  under 
has  been  cast  on  my  shoulders.  She  feels  no 
interest  whatever  in  this  part  of  the  subject.' 
"Give  me  any  name  you  like,"  she  said;  "I 
have  as  much  right  to  one  as  to  another.  Make 
it  yourself."  I  have  readily  consented  to  gratify 
her  wishes.  The  resources  of  my  commercial 
library  include  a  list  of  useful  names  to  as- 
sume ;  and  we  can  choose  one  at  five  minutes 
notice,  when  the  admirable  man  of  business 
who  now  oppresses  us  is  ready  to  issue  his  ad- 
vertisements. On  this  point  my  mind  is  easy 
enough;  all  my  anxieties  centre  in  the  fair 
performer.  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  she 
will  do  wonders  if  she  is  only  left  to  herself  on 
the  first  night.  But  if  the  day's  post  is  mis- 
chievous enough  to  upset  her  by  a  letter  from 
her  sister,  I  tremble  lor  the  consequences. 

IV. 

[Chronicle  for  December.     Second  Fortiii(/ht.] 
My  gifted  relative  has  made  her  first  ap- 
pearance in  public,  and  has  laid  the  foundation 
of  our  future  fortunes. 

On  the  first  night  the  attendance  was  larger 
than  I  had  ventured  to  hope.  The  novelty  of 
an  evening's  Entertainment,  conducted  from 
beginning  to  end  by  the  unaided  exertions  of 
a  young  lady  (see  advertisement),  roused  the 
public  curiosity,  and  the  seats  Avere  moderately 
well  filled.  As  good-luck  would  have  it,  no  let- 
ter addressed  to  Miss  Vanstone  came  that  day. 
She  was  in  full  possession  of  herself  until  she 
got  the  first  dress  on  and  heard  the  bell  ring 
ior  the  music.  At  that  critical  moment  she 
suddenly  broke  down.  I  found  her  alone  in 
the  waiting-room,  sobbing  and  talking  like  a 
child.  "  Oh,  poor  papa !  poor  papa  !  Oh, 
my  God,  if  he  saw  me  now  !"  My  experience 
in  such  matters  at  once  informed  me  that  it  was 
a  case  for  sal-volatile,  accompanied  by  sound 
advice.  We  strung  her  up  in  no  time  to  con- 
cert pitch,  set  her  eyes  in  a  blaze,  and  made 
her  outblush  her  own  rouge.  The  curtain 
rose  when  we  had  got  her  at  a  red  heat.  She 
dashed  at  it,  exactly  as  s!ie  dashed  at  it  in  the 
back  drawing-room  at  Rosemary  Lane.  Her 
personal  a])pearance  settled  the  question  of 
her  reception  before  she  opened  her  lips.  She 
rushed  full  gallop  through  her  changes  of 
character,  her  songs,  and  her  dialogue  ;  making 
mistakes  by  the  dozen,  and  never  stopping  to 
set  them  right;  carrying  the  people  along 
with  her  in  a  perfect  whirlwind,  and  never 
waiting  for  the  applause.  The  wliole  thing 
was  over  twenty  minutes  sooner  than  the  time 
we  had  calculated  on.  She  carried  it  through 
to  the  end,  and  fainted  on  the  waiting-room 
sofa  a  minute  after  the  curtain  was  down. 
The  music-seller  having  taken  leave  of  his 
senses  from  sheer  astonishment,  and  I  having 
no  evening  costume  to  appear  in,  we  sent  the 
doctor  to  make  the  necessary  apology  to  the 
public,  who  were  calling  for  her  till  the  place 
rang  again.     I  prompted  our  medical  orator 


NO  NAME. 


5*1 


with  a  neat  speech  from  behind  the  curtain, 
and  I  never  heard  such  applause  from  such  a 
comparatively  small  audience  before  in  my 
life.  I  felt' the  tribute — I  felt  it  deeply. 
Fourteen  years  ago  I  scrajied  together  the 
wretched  means  of  existence,  in  this  very 
town,  by  reading  the  newspajier  (with  e.x])lan- 
atory  comments)  to  tlie  company  at 'a  public 
house.  And  now  here  I  am  at  the  top  of  the 
tree. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  my  first  proceed- 
ing was  to  bowl  out  the  music-seller  on  the 
snot.  He  called  the  ne.xt  morning,  no  doubt 
with  a  liberal  proposal  for  extending  the  en- 
gagement beyoml  Derby  and  Nottingham. 
My  niece  was  described  as  not  well  enough  to 
see  him;  and  when  he  asked  for  me  he  was 
told  I  wa-s  not  up.  I  happened  to  be  at  that 
moment  engaged  in  putting  the  case  patheti- 
cally to  our  gifted  Magdalen.  Her  answer 
was  in  the  highest  degree  satisfactory.  She 
Avould  permanently  engage  herself  to  nobody 
— least  of  all  to  a  man  who  had  taken  soniid 
advantage  of  her  position  and  mine.  She 
would  be  her  own  mistress,  and  share  the  prof- 
its with  me,  while  she  wanted  money,  and 
while  it  suited  her  to  go  on.  So  far  so  good- 
But  the  reason  she  added  next  for  her  flatter- 
ing preference  of  myself  was  less  to  ray  taste. 
"  The  music-seller  is  not  the  man  whom  I  em- 
ploy to  make  my  inquiries."  she  said.  ''  You 
are  the  man."  I  don't  like  her  steadily  re- 
membering those  incjuiries  in  the  first  bewil- 
derment of  her  success.  It  looks  ill  for  the' 
future;  it  looks  infernally  ill  for  the  future. 

V. 

[Chrotiiclf  /or  January,  1817.] 

She  has  shown  the  cloven  foot  already.  I 
begin  to  be  a  little  afraid  of  her. 

On  the  conclusion  of  the  Nottingham  en- 
gagement (the  results  of  which  more  than 
equalled  the  results  at  Derby),  I  proposed 
taking  the  Entertainment  next — now  we  had 
got  it  into  our  own  hands — to  Newark.  Miss 
Vanstone  raised  no  objection  until  we  came 
to  the  question  of  time,  when  she  amazed  me 
by  stipulating  for  a  week's  delay  before  we 
appeared  in  public  again. 

"  For  what  ])ossibIe  purpose  ?"  I  asked. 

"  For  the  purpose  of  making  the  inquiries 
which  I  mentioned  to  you  at  York,"  she  an- 
swered. 

I  in.stantly  enlarged  on  the  danger  of  delay, 
putting  all  the  considerations  before  her  in 
f.very  imaginable  form.  She  remained  per- 
fectly inunovablc.  I  tried  to  shake  her  on  the 
question  of  expenses.  She  answered  by  hand- 
ing me  over  lier  share  of  the  proceeds  at  Derby 
and  Nottingham — and  there  were  my  expenses 
paid  at  the  rate  of  nearly  two  guineas  a  day. 
J  wonder  who  first  picked  out  a  mule  as  the 
type  of  obstinacy  ?  How  little  knowledge 
that  man  must  have  had  of  women  ! 

There  was  no  help  for  it.     I  took  down  my 


instructions  in  black  and  white,  as  usual.  My 
first  exertions  were  to  be  directed  to  the  dis- 
covery of  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  address:  I 
was  also  expected  to  find  out  how  long  he  was 
likely  to  live  there,  and  Avhether  he  had  sold 
Combe-Raven  or  not.  My  next  inquiries  were 
to  inform  me  of  his  ordinary  habits  of  life ;  of 
what  he  did  with  his  money ;  of  who  his  inti- 
mate friends  were ;  and  of  the  sort  of  terms 
on  which  his  son,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  was  now 
living  with  him.  Lastly,  the  investigations 
were  to  end  in  discovering  whether  there  was 
any  female  relative,  or  any  woman  exercising 
domestic  authority  in  the  house,  who  was 
known  to  have  an  influence  over  either  father 
or  soti. 

If  my  long  practice  in  cultivating  the  field 
of  human  sympathy  had  not  accustomed  me 
to  private  investigations  into  the  affairs  of 
other  people,  I  might  have  found  some  of  these 
queries  rather  difficult  to  deal  with  in  tlie 
course  of  a  week.  As  it  Avas,  I  gave  myself 
all  the  benefit  of  my  own  experience,  and 
brought  the  answers  back  to  Nottingham  in  a 
day  less  than  the  given  time.  Here  they  are 
in  regular  order,  for  convenience  of  future 
reference  : 

(1.)  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  is  now  residing 
at  German  Place,  Brigiiton,  and  likely  to  re- 
main there,  as  he  finds  the  air  suits  hira.     He 
reached   Loudon,  from   Switzerland,  in   Sep- 
tember last,  and  sold  the  Combe-Ilaven  prop- 
i  erty  immediately  on  his  arrival. 
j      (2.)   His  ordinary  habits  of  life  are  secret 
I  and  retired ;  he  seldom  visits  or  receives  com- 
!  pany.     Part  of  his  money  is  supposed  to  be  in 
!  the  funds,  and  part  laid  out  in  railway  invest- 
ments which  have  survived  the  panic  of  eight- 
I  een   hundi-ed  and  tbrty-six,  and  are  rapidly 
j  rising  in  value.     Since  his  arrival  in  England, 
I  he  has  also  speculated  with  great  judgment  in 
j  house  property.     He  hcas  some  houses  in  re- 
mote parts  of  London;  and  some   houses  in 
certain    watering-places   on    the    East   coast, 
which  are  shown   to  be  advancing  in  public 
repute.     In  all  these  cases  he  is  reported  to 
have  made  remarkably  good  bargains. 

(3.)  It  is  not  ea.sy  to  discover  who  his  inti- 
mate friends  are.  Two  names  only  have  been 
ascertained.  The  first  is  Admiral  Bartraui ; 
supposed  to  have  been  under  friendly  obliga- 
tions, iifpast  years,  to  Mr.  ]\Iicliael  Vanstone. 
The  second  is  Mr.  George  Bartram.  nephew 
of  the  Admiral,  and  now  staying  on  a  short 
visit  in  the  liouse  at  German  Place.  Mr. 
George  Bartram  is  the  son  of  the  late  Mr. 
Andrew  Vanstone's  sister,  also  ileceased.  He 
is  therefore  a  cousin  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone'.s. 
This  last — viz  :  ]Mr.  Noel  Vanstone — is  in  deli- 
cate health,  and  is  living  on  excellent  terms 
with  his  father  in  German  Place. 

(4.)  There  is  no  female  relative  ii^  Mr.  Mi- 
chael Vanstone's  family  circle;  but  there  is  a 
housekeeper,  who  has  lived  in  his  service  ever 
since  his  wife's  death,  and  who  has  acquired  a 
strong   influence   over   both   father   and  son. 


92 


NO  NAME. 


She  is  a  nj^tive  of  Switzerland,  elderly,  and  a  {  second  a  reply  was  received.     Her  infernal 
widow.     Her  name  is  Mrs.  Lecount.  |  cleverness  put  an  obstacle  I  had  not  expected 

I  in  the  way  of  my  intercepting  it.     Later  in  the 
On  placing  these  particulars  in  Miss  Van-    day.  aiter  .-;he  had  lierself  opened  and  read  the 
stone's  hands  she  made  no  remark,  except  to  i  answer,  I  laid  another  trap  for  her.     It  just 


thank  me.     I  endeavored  to  invite  her  confi 
dence.     No  results;  nothing  but  a  renewal  of 


succeeded,  and  no  more.     I  had  half  a  minute 
to  look  into  the  envelope  in  her  absence.     It 


civility,  and  a  sudden  shifting  to  the  subject  of  contained  nothing  but  her  OAvn  letter  returned. 
the  Entertainment.  A' cry  good.  If  she  won't  ;  She  is  not  the  girl  to  put  up  quietly  with  such 
give  me  the  inlbrmation  I  want,  the  conclusion  '  an  insult  as  this.  ]\Iiscliief  will  come  of  it. 
is  obvious — I  must  help  myself.  ,  ]\Iiscliief  to  iVIichael  Vanstone — which  is  of  no 

Business  considerations  claim  the  remainder    earthly  consequence  ;  mischief  to  me — which 
of  this  page.     Let  me  return  to  business.  i  is  a  trulv  serious  matter. 


Financial  Statkmext.           Tiiiri)  Wekk  i.^  Jam  arv. 

Place  A^iiited. 
Newiirk. 

Performiinceij.   . 

T)Vo.       '■    •    ' 

Net   Itc'ceipts.               '               Net   Kecciptg. 
In  black  and  white.         !          Actually  rcalizccj. 

Apparent  Division 

of  Profits. 

Miss  V £f^  10 

.ictiKiI  UivisiuU 
,  •  of  Profitii. 
Miss  V £r2ln 

Self.; £12  10 

Si'lf .£20  fio 

Private  Surplus  on  the  ^Veek. 

Or  6ay. 

Selfpresented  Testimonial. 

£7  Ifls. 


Audited, 


H.  Wbagge. 


Passed  correct. 

11.    WaAGO)!. 


vn. 

[ Chroii I'clc  for  Ma vcJi.'] 
Alter  performing  at  Sheffield  and  IManches- 
t  ter.  we  have  moved  to  Liverpool,  Preston,  and 
Lan<-aster.     Another  change  in  tins  weather- 
cock of  a  girl !     She  has  Avritten  no  mOre  let- 
ters to  ^lichael  Vanstone,  .ind  she  has  become 
as  anxious  to  make  money  as  I  am  myself. 
AN'e  are  realizing  large  profits,   and  we  are 
worked  to  death.     I  don't  like  this  change  in 
her  :  she  has  a  purpose  to  answer,  or  she  would 
not  i^how  such  extraordinary  eagerness  to  fill 
her  purse.     Nothing  I  can  do  —  no  cooking  of 
'  The  next  .strong-hold  of  British  sympathy  1  S'.ccounls.  no  self- presented  testimonials — can 
which   we  take   by   storm   is   Shefiie'ld.     We    '^^^'''P  ^'i^*  pui-se  empty. "   The  success  of  the 
open  the  first  week  in  Februarv.  '  Enfertainment,    and    her   own    sharpness   in 

looking  after  hor  interests,  literally  force  me 

VI.  into   a   course  of  comparative  honesty.     She 

[Chronicle  for  February.]  P"''^  '"t"  her  pocket  more  than  a  third  of  the 

.^        .  ".  '  profits,  in  defiance  of  mv  most  arduous  exer- 

Practice  has  now  given  my  tan-  relative  the    ii„ns  to  prevent   her.     And  this  at  mv  age  ! 

confidence  which  I  predicted  would  come  with  [  this  alter  mv  Ion-   and  successful  career"  as 

time.     Her  knack  of  disguising  her  own  iden-  i  a  moral   acriculnirlst !     Marks  of  admiration 

tityin  the  impersonation  of  diiferent  charac-    are  very  little  thin-s:  l,ut  they  express   my 

ters  so  completely  staggers  her  audiences  that  I  feelings,  and  I  puc  tiiem  in  freelv. 

the  same  people  come  twice  over  to  find  out  i  •  ' 


VIII. 

[Clironicle/or  Ajiril  and  Maij.] 
We  have  visited  seven  more  large  towns, 


how  she  does  it.  It  is  the  amiable  defect  of 
the  English  public  never  to  know  when  thev 
have  had  enough  of  a  good  thing.  They  act- 
ually try  to  encore  one  of  her  characters — 

an  old  norSi-countrv  lady  —  modelled  on  that  !  and  are  now  at  Birmingham.  Consulting  my 
honored  preceptress  in  the  late  Mr.  Vanstone's  :  Books,  I  find  that  Miss'Vanstone  has  reaTized 
family  to  Avhom  I  presented  myself  at  Combe-  !  by  the  Entertainment  up  to  this  time  the  enor- 
Ilaven.  This  particular  performance  fairly  I  mous  sum  of  nearly  four  hundred  pounds.  It 
amazes  the  people.  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  \  is  (jiiite  possible  that  my  own  profits  may 
Such  an  extraonlinary  assumption  of  age  ly  reach  one  or  two  miserable  hundreds  more, 
a  girl  of  nineteen  has  never  been  seen  in  pul)-    liut  I  am  the  architect  of  her  fortunes  —  the 


lie  before,  in  the  whole  course  of  my  theatrical 
experience. 

I  find  myself  writing  in  a  lower  tone  than 
usual ;  I  miss  my  own  dash  of  humor.  The 
fact  is,  I  am  depressed  about  the  future.     In 


publisher,  so   to   speak,  of   her   book — and, 
if  anything,  I  am  underpaid. 

I  made  tlm  above  discovery  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  tlie  month  —  anniversary  of  the  Res- 
toration of  my  royal  predece.-isor  in  the  field  of 


the  very  height  of  our  prosperity,  my  perverse  i  human  sympathvvCiiarles  the  Second.  I  had 
pupil  sticks  1o  her  trumpery  fainily  quarrel.  '  barely  finished 'locking  up  my  dispatch-box 
I  feel  myself  at  the  mercy  of  the  first  whim  in  |  when  the  ungrateful  girl  whose  reputation  I 
the  Vanstone  direction  which  may  come  into  j  have  made  came  into'^the  room  and  told  me 
her  head  —  I,  the  architect  of  her  fortunes,  i  in  so  many  words  that  the  business-connection 


Too  bad ;  upon  my  soul,  too  bad  ! 

She  has  acted  already  on  the  inquiries  which 
she  (breed  me  to  make  tor  her.  Slie  has  writ- 
ten two  letters  to  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone. 

To  the  first  letter  no  answer  came.     To  the 


between  us  was  for  the  present  at  an  end. 

I' attempt  no  description  of  my  own  sen- 
sations: I  merely  recor.l  facts.  She  informed 
me,  with  an  a])pearance  of  perfect  composure, 
that  she  needed  rest,  and  that  she  had  "  new 


NO  NAME. 


objects  in  view."  She  might  po*ibly  -want 
me  to  assist  those  objects ;  and  slie  iniglit  ])os- 
sibly  return  to  the  Entertainment.  In  either 
case  it  wonlil  be  enoiigli  it'  we  exehangcd 
addresses,  at  which  we  could  write  to  each 
other  in  case  of  need.  Having  no  desire  to 
leave  me  too  abrnjitly,  she  would  remain  the 
next  day  (Avhich  was  Sunday),  and  would 
take  her  departure  on  Monday  morning.  Such 
was  her  explanation  in  so  many  words. 

Remonstrance,  as  I  knew  by  experience, 
would  be  thrown  away.  Auihority  I  had 
none  to  exert.  My  own  sensible  cour.se  to 
take  in  this  emergency  was  to  find  out  which 
wav  my  own  interests  pointed,  and  to  go  that 
Avav  without  a  moment's  unnecessary  liesi- 
tation. 

A  very  little  reflection  has  since  convinced 
me  that  she  has  a  dee])-laid  scheme  against 
Micliael  Vanstone  in  view.  She  is  young, 
handsome,  clever,  and  unscrupulous;  she  has  j 
made  money  to  live  on,  and  has  time  at  her  | 
disposal  to  find  out  tlie  weak  side  of  an  old  j 
man;  and  she  is  going  to  attack  Mr.  Michael 
Vanstone  unawares  with  the  legitimate  weap- 
ons of  hersex.  Is  she  likely  to  want  me  for 
such  a  purjiose  as  this?  Doui'tful.  Is  she 
merely  anxious  to  get  rid  of  me  on  easy  terms  ? 
Probable.  Am  I  the  sort  of  man  to  be  treated 
in  this  way  by  my  own  pupil?  Decidedly 
not:  I  am  the  man  to  see  my  way  through 
a  neat  succession  of  alternatives ;  and  hero 
they  are : 

First  alternative.  To  announce  my  compli- 
ance with  her  proposal ;  to  exchange  addresses 
with  her;  and  then  to  keep  my  eye  privately 
on  all  her  future  movements.  Second  alter- 
native. To  express  fond  anxiety  in  a  paternal 
capacity,  and  to  threaten  giving  the  alarm  to 
her  sister  and  the  lawyer  if  she  persists  in  her 
design.  Third  alternative.  To  turn  the  in- 
formatiort  I  already  possess  to  the  best  ac- 
count, by  making  it  a  marketable  commodity 
between  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  and  myself. 
At  present  I  incline  toward  the  last  of  these 
three  courses.  But  my  decision  is  far  too  im- 
portant to  be  hurried.  To-day  is  only  the 
twenty-ninth.  1  will  suspend  my  Chronicle  of 
Events  until  Monday. 

Mu>/  31. — ^ly  alternatives  and  her  plans 
are  both  overtlirown  together. 

The  newspaper  came  in,  as  usual,  after 
breakfast.  I  looked  it  over,  and  discovered 
this  memorable  elit.ry  among  the  obituary 
announcements  of  the  d;iy: 

"  On   the   2Ptli  inst.,  at  Rrijjhton,  Michael  j 
Vanstone,  E.s(].,  formerly  of  Zurich,  aged  77."  i 

IMiss    Vanstone    was   present    in   the   room  j 
when  I  read   those  two  startling  lines.     Her  i 
bonnet  was  on  ;  her  boxes  Were  packed  ;  she  ( 
was  waiting  im])atiently  until  it  was  time  tii 
go  to  the  train.     I  handed   the  jtnper  to  her 
witliout  a  word  on  my  side.     Without  a  word 
on  hers,  she  looked  where  I  ])ointcd,  and  read  | 
the  news  of  Michael  Vanstone's  deaih. 


The  paper  dropped  out  of  hor  hand,  and 
she  suddenly  pulled  down  her  veil.  I  caught 
one  glance  at  her  face  before  she  hid  it  from 
me.  Tlie  effect  on  my  mind  Avas  startling  in 
the  extreme.  To  put  it  with  my  customary 
dash  of  humor  —  her  face  informed  me  that 
the  most  sensible  action  which  Miehael  Van- 
stone, Esq.,  tbrmerly  of  Zuritdi,  had  ever 
achieved  in  his  life  was  the  action  he  per- 
formed at  Brighton  on  the  2!)th  instant. 

Finding  the  dead  silence  in  the  room  singu- 
larly mipleasant  under  existing  circumstances, 
I  thought  1  would  make  a  remark.  My  re- 
gaid  lor  my  own  interests  supplie<l  me  with  a 
subject.     1  mentioned  the  Entertainment. 

"After  what  has  happened,"  I  said,  '*  I 
presume  we  go  on  with  our  i)erformanccs  as 
usual ?" 

'•  No,"  she  answered,  behind  the  veil.  "  Wc 
go  on  with  my  inquiries." 

"  In(juiries  after  a  di'ad  man  ?" 

"  Inquiries  after  the  dead  man's  son." 

"  ]\Ir.  Noel  Vanstone  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone." 

Not  having  a  veil  to  let  down  over  my  own 
face,  I  stooj)ed  and  picked  up  the  newspaper. 
Her  devilisli  determination  quite  upset  me  for 
the  moment.  I  actually  had  to  steady  myself 
before  I  could  speak  to  her  again. 

"  Are  the  new  inquiries  as  harmless  as  the 
old  ones  ?"  I  asked. 

'*  Quite  as  harmless." 

'•  AVhat  am  I  expected  to  find  out?" 

"  I  wisli  to  know  whether  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone remains  at  Brighton  after  the  funeral." 

"  And  if  not  ?" 

"If  not,  I  shall  want  to  know  his  new  ad- 
dress, wherever  it  may  be." 

"  Yes.     And  what  next  ?" 

"I  wish  you  to  find  out  next  if  all  the  fa- 
ther's money  goes  to  the  son." 

I  began  to  see  her  drift.  The  word  money 
relieved  me :  I  felt  quite  on  my  own  ground 
again. 

"  Anything  ipore  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Only  one  thing  more,"  she  answered. 
"  Make  sure,  if  you  j)lease.  whether  Mrs.  Le- 
count,  the  housekeeper,  remains  or  not  in  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  service." 

Her  voice  altered  a  little  as  she  mentioned 
Mrs.  Lecount's  name:  she  is  evidently  sharp 
enough  to  distrust  the  housekeeper  already. 

"  My  exj)enses  are  to  be  paid  as  usual  ?"  I 
said. 

"  As  usual." 

"  When  am  I  expected  to  leave  for  Brigh- 
ton ?" 

"  A^  soon  as  \<iu  can." 

She  rose  and  l«ft  the  room.  After  a  mo- 
mentary doubt  I  decided  on  executing  the.  new 
eonnnission.  The  more  private  inquiries  I 
eondnet  for  my  fair  relative  the  harder  she 
will  find  it  to  get  rid  of  hers  truly,  Horatio 
Wragae. 

There  is  nothing  to  prevent  my  starting  for 
Brighton  to-morrow.     So  to-morrow  I  go.     If 


94 


NO  NAME. 


]\tr.  Noel  Vanstone  succeeds  to  his  fatherV  ', 
property,  be  is  the  only  human  beinjj  possessed  , 
of  pecuniary  blessings  who  fails  to  inspire  me  | 
with  a  feeling  of  unmitigated  envy.  i 

IX.  I 

[Chrotiicle/ur  Jiiue.]  \ 

S//i. — I  returned  yesterday  with  my  iiifor-  ' 
mation.  H(?re  it  is,  privately  noted  down  lor  . 
convenience  of  future  reference  :  | 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  loft  Brighton  vesti-rdaA-,  i 
and  removed,  for  the  purpose  of  tran.^ai'tinjf 
business  in  London,  to  om*  of  his  hire  fatlier's 
empty  houses  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  Lambeth,  i 
This  singularly  mean  selection  of  a  place  of 
residence  on  the  part  of  a  gentleman  of  for- 
tune looks  as  if  Mr.  N.  V.  and  his  money  were 
not  easily  parted. 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  stepped  into  his  fa- 
ther's shoes  under  the  following  circumstances  : 
Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  appears  to  have  died, 
curiously  enough,  as  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone 
died  —  intestate.  With  this  difference,  how- 
ever, in  the  two  ca-<es,  that  the  younger  brother 
left  an  informal  will,  and  the  elder  l)rotlier  left 
no  M-ill  at  all.  The  hardest  men  have  their 
weaknesses;  and  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's 
weakness  .seems  to  have  been  an  insurmount- 
able horror  of  contemplating  the  event  of  his 
own  death.  His  son,  his  housekeeper,  and  his 
lawyer  had  all  three  tried,  over  and  over  again, 
to  get  him  to  make  a  will,  and  had  never 
shaken  his  obstinate  resolution  to  ])ut  off  pei-- 
Ibrming  the  only  business-duty  he  was  ever 
known  to  neglects  Two  doctor.*  attended  him 
in  his  last  illness;  warned  him  that  he  was  too 
old  a  man  to  liope  to  get  over  it;  and  warned 
him  in  vain.  He  announced  liis  own  positive 
determination  not  to  die.  His  last  words  in 
this  world  (as  I  succeeded  in  discovering  from 
the  nurse,  who  assisted  Mrs.  Lecount)  were  : 
*'I'm  getting  better  every  minute ;  send  for 
the  fly  directly  and  take  me  out  for  a  drive." 
The  same  night  Death  ]iroved  to  be  the  more 
obstinate  of  the  two,  and  left  h^s  son  (and  only 
child)  to  take  the  property  in  due  course  o," 
law.  Nobody  doubts  that  the  result  would 
have  been  the  same  if  a  will  liad  been  made. 
The  father  and  son  had  every  confidence  in 
each  other,  and  were  known  to  have  always 
lived  together  on  the  most  friendly  terms. 

Mrs.  Lecount  remains  with  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
•stone,  in  the  same  housekeeping  capacity  which 
she  filled  witli  his  father,  and  has  accompaiue(l 
him  to  the  new  residence  in  Vau.xhall  Walk. 
She  is  acknowledged  on  all  hands  to  have  been 
a  sufferer  In'  the  turn  events  have  taken.  If 
Mr.  i\Iichaei  Vanstone  had  made  his  will,  there 
is  no  doubt  she  would  have  received  a  hand- 
some legacy.  She  is  now  left  dependent  on 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  sense  of  gratitude ;  and 
she  is  not  at  all  likely,  I  should  imagine,  to  let 
that  .sense  fall  a.sleep  for  want  of  a  little  timely 
jogging.  Whether  my  fair  relative's  future 
intentions  in  this  quarter  point  toward  Mischief 
or  IMoney  Is   more  than   1   can  yet  say.     In 


either  easol  venture  a  prediction  that  she  will 
find  an  awkward  obstacle  in  Mrs.  Lecount. 

So  much  for  my  information  to  the  present 
date.  The  manner  in  which  it  was  received 
by  Mi.ss  Vanstone  showed  the  most  ungrateful 
distrust  of  me.  She  confided  nothing  to  my 
private  ear  but  the  expression  of  her  best 
thanks.  A  sharp  girl  —  a  devilish  sharp  girl. 
But  there  is  such  a  thing  as  bowling  a  man 
out  once  too  often,  especially  when  the  name 
of  that  man  happens  to  be  Wragge. 

Not  a  word  more  about  the  Entertainment; 
not  a  word  more  about  moving  from  our  pres- 
ent quarters.  Very  good.  My  right  hand 
lays  my  left  hand  a  wager.  Ten  to  one  on  her 
opening  communications  with  the  son  as  she 
opened  them  with  the  father.  Ten  to  one  on 
her  writing  to  Noel  Vanstone  before  the  month 
is  out. 

23rf. — She  has  written  by  to-day's  post.  A 
long  letter  apparently,  for  she  put  two  stamps 
on  the  envelope.  (Private  memorandum,  ad- 
dressed to  myself.     Wait  for  the  answer.) 

22*^/,  23ri,  iith. — Private  memorandum  con- 
tinued.    Wait  for  the  answer. 

25tk. — The  answer  has  come.  As  an  ex- 
military  man  I  have  naturally  employed  strat- 
agem to  get  at  it.  The  success  which  rewards 
all  genuine  perseverance  has  rewarded  me, 
and  I  have  got  at  it  accordingly. 

The  letter  is  written,  not  by  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone, but  by  Mrs.  Lei'ount.  She  takes  the 
highest  moral  ground,  in  a  tone  of  spiteful 
jioliteness.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  delicate 
health  and  recent  bereavement  prevent  him 
from  writing  himself.  Any  more  letters  from 
^liss  Vanstone  will  be  returned  unopened. 
Any  personal  application  will  produce  an  im- 
mediate appeal  to  the  protection  of  the  law. 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  having  been  expressly 
cautioned  against  a\Iiss  Magdalen  Vanstone  by 
his  late  lamented  father,  has  not  yet  forgotten 
his  father's  advice.  Considers  it  a  reflection 
cast  on  the  Jionored  memory  of  the  best  of 
men  to  suppose  that  his  course  of  action  to- 
ward the  Miss  Vanstones  can  be  other  than  the 
course  of  action  which  his  father  pursued. 
This  Is  what  he  has  himself  instructed  Mrs. 
Lecount  to  say.  She  has  endeavored  to  ex- 
press herself  in  the  most  conciliatory  language 
she  could  select;  she  has  tried  to  avoid  giving 
unnecessary  pain,  by  addressing  Miss  Van- 
stone (as  a  matter  of  courtesy)  by  the  family 
name  ;  and  she  trusts  these  concessions,  which 
speak  for  themselves,  will  not  be  thrown 
away.  [Such  is  the  substance  of  the  letter — 
and  so  It  ends.] 

I  draw  two  conclusions  from  this  little  docu- 
ment. First,  that  it  will  lead  to  serious 
mischief.  Secondly,  that  Mrs.  Lecount,  with 
all  her  politeness,  is  a  dangerous  woman  to 
deal  with.  I  wish  I  saw  ray  way  safe  before 
me.     I  don't  see  it  yet. 

2!)///.  —  Miss  Vanstone  has  abandoned  ray 


NO  NAME. 


95 


protection,  and  the  whole  lucrative  future  of 
the  dramatic  Entertainment  has  abandoned 
me  with  her.  I  am  swindled — I,  the  last  man 
under  Heaven  who  could  possibly  have  ex- 
pected to  write  in  those  disgraceful  terms  of 
himself — I  am  smindlkd  ! 

Lut  me  chronicle  the  events.  They  e.xhibit 
me,  for  the  time  being,  in  a  sadly  helpless 
point  of  view.  But  the  nature  of  the  man 
])re vails;  I  must  have  the  events  down  in 
black  and  wliite. 

The  announcement  of  her  approaching  de- 
parture was  int'mated  to  me  yesterday.  After 
another  civil  speech  about  the  information  I 
had  procured  at  Brighton,  she  hinted  that  there 
was  a  necessity  for  pushing  our  inquiries  a 
little  further.  I  immediately  «fre.n'd  to  under- 
take them,  as  before.  "  No,"  she  said;  "  they 
are  not  in  your  way  this  time.  They  are  in- 
quiries relating  to  a  woman,  and  I  mean  to 
make  them  myself!"  Feeling  privately  con- 
vinced that  this  new  resolution  pointed  straight 
at  Mrs.  Lecount,  I  tried  a  few  innocent  ques- 
tions on  the  subject.  She  quietly  declined  to 
answer  them.  I  asked  next  when  she  pro- 
posed to  leave.  She  would  leave  on  the 
twenty-eighth.  For  what  destination  ?  Lon- 
don. For  long  '?  Pi-obably  not.  By  herself? 
No.  With  me?  No.  VVltIt  whom  then? 
AVith  Mrs.  Wragge,  if  I  had  no  objection, 
(iood  Heavens!  for  what  possible  purpose? 
For  tiie  purpose  of  getting  a  respectable 
lodging,  which  she  could  hardly  expect  to 
accomplish  unless  slie  was  accompanied  by  an 
elderly  female  friend.  And  was  I,  in  the 
capacity  of  elderly  male  friend,  to  be  left  out 
of  tlie  business  altogether  ?  Impo-ssible  to 
say  at  present.  Was  I  not  even  to  forward 
any  Iwtters  which  might  come  lor  her  at  our  j 
present  address  ?  No  ;  she  would  make  the  I 
arrangement  her.self  at  the  post-office  ;  and  she 
wouhi  ask  me  at  the  same  time  for  an  address,  ! 
at  which  I  could  receive  a  letter  from  lier.  in  i 
case  of  necessity  for  futurp  communication.  ! 
Furtlicr  inquiries,  after  this  last  answer,  could  i 
had  to  nothing  but  waste  of  time.  I  saved  ' 
time  by  putting  no  more  (piestions.  I 

Is  was  clear  to  me  that  our  present  position  ! 
toward  each  other  was  what  our  position  had  | 
been  previously  to  the  event  of  iMichael  Van- 
stone's  death.     I   returned,  as  before,  to  my  [ 
choice   of   alternatives.     Which  way  did   my 
private  interests  point?     Toward  trusting  the 
chance  of  her  wajiting  me  again  ?     Toward 
threatening  her  with  the  interference  of  her 
relatives    and    friends?     Or    toward    making 
the  inlormation  which   I  possessed  a  market- 
able connnodify  between  the  wealthy  branch 
of  the   family  and  myself?     The  last  of  the 
three  was  the  alternative  I  had  chosen  in  the 
case  of  the  lather.     1  chose  it  once  more  in 
the  case  of  the  son. 

The  train  .itarted  for  London  nearly  four 
Iionrs  since,  and  took  her  awny  in  it,  accom- 
jianicd  by  Mrs.  Wragge.  My  wife  is  far  too 
great  a  fool,  poor  soul,  to  be  actively  valuable 


in  the  present  emergency;  but  she  will  be 
passively  usclul  in  keeping  up  Miss  Vanstone's 
connection  with  me — and,  in  consideration  of 
that  circumstance,  I  consent  to  brush  my  own 
trowsers,  shave  my  own  I'hin,  and  submit  to 
the  other  inconveniencies  of  waiting  on  myself 
for  a  limited  period.  Any  faint  glimmerings 
of  sense  whi«h  Mrs.  Wragge  may  have  for- 
merly possessed  appear  to  have  now  finally 
taken  their  leave  of  her.  On  receiving  per- 
mission to  go  to  London,  she  favored  us 
immediately  with  two  inquiries:  Miglit  she 
do  some  sho[)])ing  ?  and  might  she  leave  the 
cookery-book  behind  her  ?  Miss  Vanstone 
said  Yes  to  one  question,  and  I  said  Yes  to  the 
other ;  and  from  that  moment  Mrs.  Wragge 
has  existed  in  a  state  of  perpetual  laughter. 
1  am  still  hoarse  with  vainly-repeated  applica- 
tions of  vocal  stimulant;  and  I  left  her  in  the 
railway  carriage,  to  my  inexpressible  disgust, 
with  hoth  .shoes  down  at  heel.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances  these  absurd  particulars  would 
not  have  dwelt  on  my  memory.  But,  as  mat- 
ters actually  stand,  my  unfortunate  wife's  im- 
becility may,  in  her  present  position,  lead  to 
consequences  which  we  none  of  us  foresee. 
She  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  grown-up 
child ;  and  I  can  plainly  detect  that  Miss 
Vanstone  trusts  her  as  she  would  not  have 
trusted  a  sharper  woman  on  that  very  ac- 
count. I  know  children,  little  and  big,  rather 
better  than  my  fair  relative  does;  and  I  say 
—  beware  of  all  forms  of  human  innocence 
when  it  happens  to  be  your  interest  to  keep 
a  secret  to  yourself. 

Let  me  return  to  business.  Here  I  am,  at 
two  o'clock  on  a  fine  suunner's  afternoon,  left 
entirely  alone,  to  consider  the  safest  means  of 
approaching  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  on  my  own 
account.  i\Iy  private  suspicions  of  his  miserly 
character  procluce  no  discouraging  effect  on 
me.  I  have  extracted  cheering  pecuniary  re- 
sults in  my  tiine  trom  people  quite  as  fond  of 
their  money  as  he  can  be.  The  real  difficulty 
to  contejid  with  is  the  obstacle  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count. If  I  am  not  mistaken,  this  lady  merits 
a  little  serious  consideration  on  iny  jiart.  I 
will  close  my  chronicle  for  to-day,  and  give 
Mrs.  Lecount  her  due. 

Three  o' clock. — I  open  the.se  pages  again,  to 
record  a  discovery  which  has  taken  me  entirely 
by  surprise. 

After  completing  the  last  entry,  a  <inHm- 
stance  revived  in  my  memory  which  I  liad  no- 
ticed on  escorting  tliP  ladies  this  morning  to 
the  laiiwav.  1  then  remarked  that  this  Miss 
Vanstone  had  om1\  taken  one  of  her  three 
boxes  with  Iht.  ;iiid  it  now  occurred  to  me 
that  a  private  investigation  of  the  luggage  she 
had  left  behind  might  prmsibly  be  attended  with 
beneficial  results.  Havinp;  at  certain  periods 
of  my  life  heon  in  the  habit  of  cultivating 
friendly  terms  with  strange  Icnks,  I  lound  no 
'liffi*  ulty  in  estalili^hing  myself  on  a  familiar 
footing  with  Miw  Van^tone'8  boxej*.     One  of 


9< 


XO  ^'AME. 


the  two  presented  notliihg  to  interest  me. 
The  other — devoted  to  the  preservation  of  the 
costumes,  articles  ot  toilet,  and  otlier  proper- 
ties used  in  the  dramatic  Entertainment  — 
proved  to  be  better  worth  examining,  lor  it 
led  me  stiaight  to  the  discovery  oi"  one  of  its 
owner's  secrets. 

1  tbund  all  the  dresses  in  the.bo.x  complete 
—  with  one  remarkable  exception.  Th.u  ex- 
ception was  the  dress  of  tiie  old  North-coun- 
try lady  ;  the  cliaracter  whicii  I  ha\  e  already 
mentioned  as  the  best  of  all  my  pupil's  dis- 
guises, and  as  modelled  in  voice  and  manner 
ou  her  old  governess,  Mi>s  Garth.  The  wig  ; 
the  eyebrows;  the  bonnet  and  veil;  the  cloak, 
padded  inside  to  disfigure  her  back  and  shoul- 
ders; the  paints  and  cosmetics  used  to  a^^e  her 
face  and  alter  her  complexion — were  all  gone. 
Xothin<i  but  the  gown  remained  —  a  gaudily 
tiowered  silk,  useful  enough  lor  ilramatic  pur- 
poses, but  too  extravagant  in  color  and  pattern 
to  bear  insi)ection  by  daylight.  The  other 
parts  of  the  dress  are  sufliciently, quiet  to  pass 
muster;  the  bonnet  and  veil  are  only  old- 
fasliioiied,  and  the  cloak  is  oi'  a  sober  gray 
color.  But  one  plain  inference  can  be  drawn 
from  such  a  discovery  as  this.  As  certainly  as 
I  sit  here,  she  is  going  to  open  the  campaign 
a"^ainst  Noel  Vanstone  and  Airs.  Lecount  in  a 
character  which  neither  of  those  two  persons 
can  have  any  possible  reason  for  suspecting  at 
the  outset — the  character  of  Miss  Garth. 

What  course  am  I  to  take  under  these  cir- 
cumstances '?  Having  got  her  secret,  what  am 
1  to  do  with  it  ?  These  are  awkward  consid- 
erations; I  am  rather  puzzled  how  to  deal 
with  them. 

It  is  something  more  than  the  mere  fact 
of  her  choosing  to  disguise  herself  to  forward 
her  own  private  ends  that  causes  my  present 
perplexity.  Hundreds  of  girls  take  fancies  lor 
disiruising  themselves ;  and  hundreds  of  in 
stances  of  it  are  related,  year  after  year,  in 
the  public  journals.  But  my  ex-pupil  is  not 
to  be  confounded,  for  one  moment,  with  the 
averai^e  adventuress  of  the  newspapers.  She 
is  capable  of  going  a  long  way  beyond  the 
limit  of  dressing  herself  like  a  man,  and  imi- 
tatiu"-  a  man's  voice  and  manner.  She  has  a 
natural  uift  for  assuming  characters,  which  I 
have  nevjr  seen  equalled  by  a  woman  ;  and 
she  has  performed  in  public  until  she  has  felt 
her  own  power,  and  trained  her  talent  for 
disiTuisini;  herself  to  the  highest  pitch.  A  girl 
who  takes  the  sharpest  people  unawares  by 
nsing  such  a  capacity  as  this  to  help  hi'r  own 
objects  in  private  life,  and  who  sharpens  that 
capacity  by  a  determination  to  fight  her  way 
to  her  own  purpose,  Avhich  has  beaten  down 
everything  betbre  it,  up  to  this  time,  is  a  girl 
who  tries  an  experiment  in  deception,  new 
enough  and  dangerous  enough  to  lead,  one 
way  or  the  other,  to  very  serious  results. 
This  is  my  conviction,  founded  on  a  large 
experience  in  the  art  of  imposing  on  my 
fellow-creatures.     I  say  of  my  fair  relative's 


enterprise  what  I  never  said  or  thought  of  it 
till  I  introduced  myself  to  the  inside  of  her 
box.  The  chances  for  and  against  her  win- 
niuir  the  fight  for  her  lost  fortune  are  now 
so  evenly  balanced  that  I  can  not  for  the 
life  of  me  see  on  which  i<ide  the  scale  inclines. 
All  I  can  discern  is,  that  it  will,  to  a  dead  cer- 
tainty, turn  one  way  or  the  other  on  the  day 
when  she  passes  Noel  Vaustone's  doors  in  dis- 
gihs6^.,  .   ' 

[Wliich  way  do  my  interests  point  now'? 
Upon  my  honor,  I  don't  know.] 


Five  o'clock. — I  have  effected  a  masterly 
compromise ;  I  have  decided  on  turning  my- 
self into  a  Jackion-both-sides. 

By  to-day's  post  I  have  dispatched  to  Lon- 
don an  anonymous  letter  for  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone.  It  will  be  forwarded  to  its  destination 
by  the  same  means  which  I  successfully  adopted 
to  mvstify  Mr.  Pendril ;  and  it  will  reach 
Vauxhall  Walk,  Lambeth,  by  the  afternoon 
ot'  to-morrow  at  the  latest. 

The  letter  is  short,  and  to  the  purpose.  It 
warns  Air.  Noel  Vanstone  in  the  most  alarm- 
ing language  tliat  he  is  destined  to  become 
the  victim  of  a  conspiracy,  and  that  the  prime 
mover  of  it  is  a  young  lady  who  has  already 
held  written  communication  with  his  father 
and  himself.  It  offers  him  the  intbnnation 
necessary  to  secure  his  own  safety,  on  condi- 
tion that  he  makes  it  worth  the  writer's  while 
to  run  the  serious  personal  I'isk  which  such  a 
disclosure  will  entail  on  him ;  and  it  ends  by 
stipulating  that  the  answer  shall  be  advertised 
in  the  Times,  shall  be  addressed  to  "  An  Un- 
known Friend,'  and  shall  state  plainly  what 
remuneration  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  oii'ers  for 
the  priceless  service  which  it  is  proposed  to 
render  him. 

Unless  some  unexpected  complication  oc- 
curs, this  letter  places  me  exactly  in  the  posi- 
tion which  it  is  my  present  interest  to  occupy. 
If  the  advertisement  appears,  and  if  the  re- 
muneration offered  is  large  enough  to  justify 
me  in  going  over  to  the  camp  of  the  enemy, 
over  I  go.  If  no  advertisement  appears,  or  if 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  rates  my  invaluable  as- 
sistance at  too  low  a  figure,  here  I  remain, 
biding  my  time  till  my  fair  relative  Avants 
me,  or  till  I  make  her  want  me,  which  comes 
to  the  same  thing.  If  the  anonymous  letter 
lalls  by  any  accident  into  her  hands,  she  will 
find  disparaging  allusions  in  it  to  myself,  pur- 
posely introduced  to  suggest  that  the  writer 
must  be  one  of  the  persons  whom  I  addressed 
while  conducting  her  inquiries.  If  Mrs.  Le- 
count takes  the  business  in  hand,  and  lays  a 
trap  for  me  —  I  decline  her  tempting  invita- 
tion, by  becoming  totally  ignorant  of  the  whole 
affair  the  instant  any  second  person  appears 
in  it.  Let  the  end  come  as  it  may,  here  I  am 
ready  to  profit  by  it ;  here  I  am,  facing  both 
ways  with  perfect  ease  and  security — -a  moral 
agriculturist,   with  his   eye  ou   two  crops  at 


NO  NAME. 


»T 


)nce,  and  his  swindler's  sickle  ready  for  any  '  will  be  more  interesting^  to  me  than  ever.     I 
jmcrgency.  I  wonder  which  side  I  shall  eventually  belong 

For  the  next  week  to  come  the  newspaper  I  to? 


THE  THIRD  SCENE-VAUXHALL  WALK,  LAMBETH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Tiie  old  Arcliicpiscopal  Palace  of  Lambeth, 
on  the  soutiiern  bank  of  the  Thames  —  with 
its  P.ishop's  Walk  and  (Jarden,  and  its  terrace 
Ironting  the  river  —  is  an  architectural  relic 
of  the  London  of  former  times,  precious  to  all 
lovers  of  the  picturesque,  in  the  utilitarian 
London  of  tlie  present  day.  Southward  of 
this  venerable  structure  lies  the  street  laby- 
rinth of  Lambeth;  and  nearly  midway  in  that 
part  of  the  maze  of  bouses  which  i.s  placed 
nearest  to  the  river  runs  the  dingy  double 
row  of  buildings  now,  as  in  former  days,  known 
by  the  name  of  Vauxhall  Walk. 

The  net-work  of  dismal  streets  stretching 
over  the  surrounding  neighborhood  contains 
a  population  for  the  most  part  of  the  poorer 
order.  In  the  thoroughfares  where  shops 
iibound  the  sordid  struggle  with  poverty  shows 
itself  unreservedly  on  the  fdthy  pavement, 
Blathers  its  forces  through  the  week,  and, 
Jtrengthening  to  a  tumult  on  Saturday  night, 
sees  the  Sunday  morning  dawn  in  murky  gas- 
light. Miserable  women,  whose  faces  never 
smile,  haunt  the  butchers'  sho])s  in  such  Lon- 
lon  localties  as  these  with  relics  of  the  men's 
wages  saved  from  the  public-house  clutched 
fast  in  their  hands,  with  vyes  that  devour  the 
meat  they  dare  not  buy,  with  eager  fingers 
that  touch  it  covetously,  as  the  fingers  of 
their  richer  sisters  touch  a  precious  stone.  In 
this  district,  as  in  other  districts  remote  from 
the  wealthy  (juarters  of  the  metropolis,  the 
hidi'ous  London  vagabond — with  the  filth  of  the 
street  oulmatched  in  his  speech,  with  the  mud 
of  the  street  outdirtied  in  his  clothes — lounges, 
lowering  and  brutal,  at  the  street  corner 
and  the  gin-shop  door:  the  public  disgrace  of 
his  country,  the  unheeded  warning  of  social 
troubles  that  are  yet  to  come.  Here  the  loud 
sell-assertion  of  Modern  Progress — which  has 
reformed  so  much  in  manners,  and  altered  so 
little  in  men  —  meets  the  fiat  contradiction 
that  scatters  its  pretensions  to  the  winds. 
Here,  while  the  national  fjrospcrity  feasts, 
like  another  Belshazzar.  on  the  spectacle  of 
its  own  magnificence,  is  the  Writmg  on  the 
Wall,  which  warns  the  monarch.  Money,  that 
his  glory  is  wciglnd  in  the  balance,  and  his 
power  found  wanting. 

Siluati'd    in   such   a   neighborhood    as  tiiis, 
Vauxhall  Walk  gains  by  comparison,  and  es- 
tablishes claim  to  respectability  which  no  im- 
f>artial  observation  can  fail  to  recognize.     A 
argc  proportion  of  the  Walk  is  still  composed 
IS 


of  private  houses.  In  the  scattered  situationi 
where  shops  appear,  those  shops  are  not  be- 
sieged by  the  crowds  of  more  populous  thor- 
oughfares. Commerce,  is  not  turbulent,  nor 
is  the  public  consumer  besieged  by  loud  invi- 
tations to  "  buy."  Bird-fanciers  have  sought 
the  congenial  tranquillity  of  the  scene ;  and 
pigeons  coo,  and  canaries  twitter,  in  Vauxhall 
Walk.  Second-hand  carts  and  cabs,  bed- 
steads of  a  certain  age,  detached  carriage- 
wheels  for  those  who  may  want  one  to  make 
up  a  set,  are  all  to  be  found  here  in  the  same 
re})ository.  One  tributary  stream  in  the  great 
ilood  of  gas  which  illuminates  London  tracks 
its  ])arent  source  to  Works  established  in  this 
locality.  Here  the  followers  of  John  Wesley 
have  set  up  a  temple,  built  before  the  period 
of  Methodist  conversion  to  the  principles  of 
architectural  religion.  And  here— most  strik- 
ing object  of  all — on  the  site  where  thousandi 
of  lights  once  sparkled ;  where  sweet  sounds 
of  music  made  night  tuneful  till  morning 
dawned ;  where  the  beauty  and  fashion  of 
London  feasted  and  danced  through  the  sum- 
mer seasons  of  a  century — spreads,  at  this  day, 
an  awful  wilderness  of  mud  and  rubbish ;  the 
deserted  dead  body  of  Vauxhall  Gardens 
mouldering  in  the  open  air. 

On  the  same  day  when  (Japtain  Wragge 
completed  the  last  entry  in  his  Chronicle  of 
Events,  a  woman  appeared  at  the  window  of 
one  of  the  houses  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  and  re- 
moved from  the  glass  a  printed  paper  which 
had  been  wafered  to  it,  announcing  that 
Apartments  were  to  be  let.  Tiie  apartments 
consisted  of  two  rooms  on  the  first  floor. 
Tiiey  had  just  been  taken  for  a  week  certain, 
by  two  ladies  who  had  paid  in  advance  — 
those  two  ladies  being  Magdalen  and  Mrs. 
Wragge. 

As  soon  as  the  mistress  of  the  bouse  had 
left  the  room,  Magdalen  walked  to  the  win- 
dow and  cautiously  looked  out  from  it  at  the 
row  of  buildings  opposite.  They  were  of  su- 
perior pretensions  in  size  and  appearance  to 
the  other  bouses  in  the  Walk  ;  the  date  at 
which  they  had  been  erected  was  inscribed 
on  one  of  them,  and  was  stated  to  be  the  year 
1759.  They  stood  back  from  the  pavement, 
separated  from  it  by  little  strips  of  garden- 
ground.  This  peculiarity  of  position,  added 
to  the  breadth  of  the  roadway  interposing  be- 
tween them  and  the  smaller  houses  opposite, 
made  it  impossible  for  Magdalen  to  see  the 
numbers  on  the  doors,  or  to  observe  more  o( 


PS 


NO  NAME. 


any  one  who  miglit  romc  to  tlu'  w  indows  than 
the  bare  jrcneral  outline  of  dress  and  fi(;nre. 
Nevertheless  there  she  stooil,  anxious])-  fixing 
her  eyes  on  one  house  In  the  row,  nearly  op- 
posite to  her — the  house  she  had  looked  for 
before  entering  the  lodgings :  the  house  in- 
habited at  that  moment  by  Noel  Vanstone 
and  Mrs.  Lecount. 

After  keeping  watch  at  the  window,  in  si- 
lence, for  ten  minutes  or  more,  she  suddenly 
looked  back  into  the  room,  to  observe  the 
effect  which  her  behavior  might  have  pro- 
duced on  her  travidling  comp:inion. 

Not  the  slightest  cause  apj)i'ar(>d  for  any 
apprehension  in  th:it  (piarter.  Mrs.  Wragge 
was  seated  at  the  table,  ab'oi'bed  in  the  ar- 
ranjienient  of  a  series  of  smart  circulars  and 
tempting  price  -  lists,  isstied  by  advertising 
tradespeople,  and  flung  in  at  the  cab-windows 
as  they  left  the  Loudon  terminus.  "  I  "vc 
often  heard  tell  of  light  reading."  said  Mrs. 
Wragge,  restlessly  shifting  the  positions  of  the 
circulars,  as  a  child  restlessly  shifVs  the  posi- 
tions of  a  new  set  of  toys.  "  Here  's  light 
reading  printed  in  pretty  colors.  Here's  all 
the  Tilings  I  'm  going  to  buy  when  I  'm  out 
shopping  to-morrow.  Lend  us  a  pencil,  plea  c 
— you  won't  be  angry,  will  you? — I  do  so 
want  to  mark  'em  oif."  She  looked  up  at 
Magdalen,  chuckled  joyfully  over  her  own 
altered  circumstan(;es,  and  beat  lier  gre,<t 
hands  on  the  table  in  irrepressible  deliglit. 
"No  cookery-book!"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge. 
"  No  Buzzing  in  my  head !  no  captain  to 
shave  to-morrow!  I'm  all  down  at  heel;  my 
cap  's  on  one  side;  and  nobody  bawls  at  me. 
My  heart  alive,  here  is  a  holiday  and  no  mis- 
take !"  Her  hands  began  to  drum  again  on 
the  table  louder  tlian  ever,  until  Magdalen 
(juieted  them  by  presenting  her  with  a  pencil. 
Mrs.  Wragge  instantly  recovered  her  dignity, 
squared  her  elbows  on  the  table,  and  plunged 
into  imaginary  shopping  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening. 

Magdalen  returned  to  the  window.  Slie 
took  a  chair,  seated  herself  behind  the  cur- 
tain, and  steadily  fixed  her  eyes  once  more  on 
the  house  opposite. 

The  blinds  were  down  over  the  windows  of 
the  first  floor  and  the  second.  The  window 
of  the  room  on  the  ground-floor  was  uncovered 
and  partly  open,  but  no  living  creature  came 
near  it.  Doors  opened,  and  people  came  and 
went,  in  the  houses  on  either  side ;  children 
by  the  dozen  poured  out  on  the  pavement  to 
play,  and  invaded  the  little  strifis  of  garden- 
ground  to  recover  lost  balls  and  shuttlecocks; 
streams  of  people  passed  backward  and  for- 
ward perpetually ;  heavy  wagons,  piled  high 
with  goods,  lumbered  along  the  road,  on  their 
way  to,  or  their  way  from,  the  railway  station 
near;  all  the  daily  life  of  the  district  stirred 
with  its  ceaseless  activity  in  every  direction 
but  one.  The  hours  passed — and  there  was 
the  house  opposite  still  shut  up,  still  void  of 


any  signs  of  human  existence,  inside  or  out. 
The  one  object  which  had  decided  Magdalen 
on  personally  venturing  herself  in  Vauxhall 
■Walk — the  object  of  studying  the  looks,  man- 
ners, and  habits  of  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  ^j 
master  from  a  post  of  observation  known  only  1 
to  herself  —  was,  tiuis  far,  utterly  defeated. 
After  three  hours  watching  at  the  window, 
she  had  not  even  discovered  enough  to  show 
her  that  the  hou.sc  was  inhabited  at  all. 

Shortly  after  six  o'clock  the  landlady  dis- 
turbed Mrs.  Wragge's  studies  by  spreading 
the  cloth  for  dinner.  Magdalen  placed  her- 
self at  the  table,  in  a  position  which  still  en- 
abled her  to  command  the  view  from  the 
window.  Nothing  happened.  Tlie  dinner 
came  to  an  end ;  Mrs.  Wragge  (lulled  by  the 
narcotic  influences  of  annotating  circulars  and 
eating  and  drinking  with  an  appetite  sharp- 
ened by  the  captain's  absence)  withdrew  to 
an  arm-chair,  and  fell  asleep  in  an  attitude 
which  would  have  caused  her  hu.sband  the 
acutest  mental  suffering;  seven  o'clock  struck; 
the  shadows  of  the  summer  evening  length- 
ened stealthily  on  the  gray  pavement  and  the 
brown  house  walls — and  still  the  closed  door 
opposite  remained  shut;  still  the  one  window 
open  showed  nothing  but  the  black  blank  of 
the  room  Inside,  lifeless  and  changeless  as  if 
that  room  had  been  a  tomb. 

^Ir.s.  Wragge's  meek  snoiing  deepened  In 
tone;  the  evening  wore  on  drearily;  it  was 
close  on  eight  o'clock  —  when  an  event  hap- 
pened at  last.  The  street  door  opposite;  opened 
ibr  the  first  time,  and  a  woman  appeared  on 
the  tiircsliold. 

Was  the  woman  Mrs.  Lecount?  No.  As 
she  came  nearer  her  dress  showed  her  to  be  a 
servant.  She  had  a  large  door-key  In  her 
hand,  and  was  evidently  going  out  to  perform 
an  errand.  Roused,  partly  by  curiosity  — 
partly  by  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  which 
urged  her  im])etuous  nature  Into  action,  after 
the  passive  endurance  of  many  hours  past — 
Magdalen  snatclicd  up  her  bonnet,  and  deter- 
mined to  follow  the  servant  to  her  destination, 
wiierever  it  might  be. 

The  woman  led  her  to  the  great  thorough- 
f;'.re  of  shops  close  at  hand,  called  Lambeth 
Walk.  After  proceeding  some  little  distance, 
and  looking  about  her  with  the  hesitation  of  a 
person  not  well  acquainted  with  the  nelghbor- 
liood,  the  servant  crossed  the  road,  and  entered 
a  stationer's  shoj).  Magdalen  ci'ossed  the  road 
after  her,  and  followed  her  In. 

The  inevitable  delay  in  entering  the  shop 
under  these  circumstances  made  Magdalen  too 
lat(;  to  hear  what  the  woman  asked  for.  The 
first  words  spoken,  however,  by  the  man  behind 
the  counter  reached  her  ears,  and  informed 
her  that  the  servant's  object  Avas  to  buy  a  rail- 
way Guide. 

"  Do  you  mean  a  Guide  for  this  month  ?  or 
a  Guide  for  July?"  asked  the  shopman,  ad-, 
dressing  his  customer. 


NO  NAME. 


99 


"Master  didn't  tell  me  which,"  answered 
the  woman.  "  All  I  know  is,  ho  's  going  into 
the  country  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow  is  the  first  of 
July,"  said  'tlie  shopman.  "  The  Guide  your 
master  wants  is  the  Guide  for  the  new  month. 
It  won't  be  j)ublisiied  till  to-morrow." 

En2:ai;iiij,f  to  i  ;dl-a;,Min  on  the  next  day.  the 
servant  left  the  shop  and  took  the  way  that 
led  back  to  V'auxhall  Walk. 

Magdalen  purchased  the  first  tritlc  she  saw 
on  the  counter,  and  hastily  retui'ned  in  the 
same  direction.  The  discovery  she  had  just 
made  was  of  very  serious  iujportance  to  her ; 
and  she  felt  the  ni'cessity  of  acting  on  it  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible. 

On  entering  tlie  fiont  room  at  tlie  lodgings 
she  found  Mrs.  Wragge  just  awake,  lost  in 
drowsy  bewilderment,  witli  her  caj)  fallen  oil' 
on  her  shoulders,  and  with  one  of  her  shoes 
missing  altogether.  Magdal(>n  endeavored  to 
persuade  hi'r  that  she  was  tired  al't^^r  her  jour- 
ney, and  that  her  wisest  proceeding  wouKl  he 
to  go  to  bed.  i\Irs.  Wragge  was  perfectly 
willing  to  [uofit  by  this  suggestion,  provided 
[  she  could  find  her  shoe  first.  In  looking  for 
;  the  shoe  she  unfortunately  discovered  the  cir- 
1  culars,  ])ut  by  on  a  side-table,  and  forthwith 
I  recovered  hci-  n-collectiou  uf  the  eai'licr  pro- 
ceedings of  the  evening. 

"(Jive  us  the  pencil,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge, 
shufiling  the  circulars  in  a  violent  hurry.  "  I 
can't  go  to  bed  yet — I  haven't  half  done  mark- 
ing down  the  things  I  want.  Let 's  see;  where 
did  I  leave  ofl!"?  Try  FiticJi's  feedimj-lmtt/e  foj- 
Infants.  No !  there  's  a  cross  against  that : 
the  cross  means  I  don't  want  it.  Comfort  in 
the  Field.  Bnrkiers  Iufkstruclible  Huntinrj 
Brctclies.  Oh  I  dear,  dear  !  I  've  lost  the  place. 
No,  I  haven't  I  Here  it  is;  here  is  my  mark 
against  it.  Elegant  Cashmere  Robes;  slrici!;/ 
oriental,  very  grand;  redure.d  to  one  pound 
nineteen  and  sixpence.  Be  in  time.  Only  three 
left.  Only  three  !  Oh  do  lend  us  the  money, 
and  let  's  go  and  get  one !" 

"  Not  to-night,"  said  JMagdalen.  "  Suppose 
you  go  to  bed  now,  and  finish  the  circulars  to- 
morrow? I  will  put  them  by  the  bedside  for 
you ;  and  you  can  go  on  with  them  as  soon  as 
you  wake,  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

This  suggestion  met  with  Mrs.  U'ragge's  im- 
mediate ai»proval.  Magdalen  took  her  into 
the  next  room,  and  put  her  to  bed  like  a  child, 
with  her  toys  by  her  side.  The  room  was  so 
narrow  and  the  bed  was  so  small,  and  Mrs. 
Wragge,  arrayed  in  the  wliite  apparel  proper 
for  the  occasion^ — with  her  moon  face  framed 
round  by  a  spacious  halo  of  nightcap — looked 
so  hugely  and  disproportionately  large,  tiiat 
Magdalen,  anxious  as  she  was,  euuld  not  re- 
press a  smile  on  taking  leave  of  her  travelling 
companion  for  the  night. 

"Aha!"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  cheerfully; 
*'  we  '11  have  that  Cashmere  Itobc  to-morrow. 
Come  hen; !  T  want  to  whisper  something  to 
you.     Just  you  look  at  me — I  'm  going  to  sleep 


crooked,  and  the  captain  's  not  here  to  bawl  at 
me !" 

The  front  room  at  the  lodgings  contained  a 
sofa-bedstead,  which  the  landlady  arranged 
betimes  for  the  night.  This  done,  and  "the 
candles  brought  in,  Magdalen  was  left  alone  t<> 
shape  her  future  course  as  her  own  thoughts 
counselled  her. 

The  (juestions  and  answers  which  had  j)assed 
in  her  j)resenee  that  evening  at  the  stationer's 
shop  led  {)laiidy  to  the  conclusion  that  one 
day  more  would  bring  Noel  Vanstone's  pres- 
ent term  of  residence  in  Vauxhall  Walk  to 
an  end.  Her  first  cautious  U'solution  to  pass 
many  (i.13  s  together  in  unsuspected  observa- 
tion of  the  house  opposite  before  she  ventured 
lujrself  inside  was  entirely  frustrated  by  the 
turn  events  had  taken.  She  was  ))laced  in 
the  dilemma  of  running  all  risks  headlong  on 
the  next  day  — or  of  pausing  for  a  future  op- 
portunity, which  might  never  occur.  There 
was  no  middle  course  open  to  her.  Until  sluj 
had  si'cn  Noel  V'aiistone  with  her  own  eye.s, 
and  had  discovered  the  worst  there  was  to 
fear  from  Airs.  Leeount — until  she  had  achiev- 
ed this  double  object,  with  the  needful  pre- 
caution of  keeping  her  own  identity  carefully 
in  the  dark  —  not  a  step  could  she  advance 
toward  the  accomplishment  of  the  purpose 
which  had  brought  her  to  London. 

On(;  after  another  the  minutes  of  the  night 
passed  away  ;  one  after  another  the  throngmg 
thoughts  followed  each  other  over  her  mind — 
and  still  she  reached  no  conelusion  ;  still  she 
faltered  and  doubted,  with  a  hesitation  new 
to  her  in  her  experience  of  herself.  At  last 
she  crossed  the  room  impatiently  to  seek  the 
trivial  relief  of  unlocking  her  trunk,  and 
t.iking  from  it  the  few  things  that  she  wanted 
for  the  night.  Captain  Wragtre's  suspicions 
had  not  misled  him.  There,  hiilden  between 
two  dresses,  were  the  articles  of  co^itume  which 
he  had  missed  from  her  box  at  Birmingham. 
She  turned  them  over  one  by  one,  to  satisfy 
herself  that  nothing  she  wanted  had  been  for- 
gotten, and  n^tnrned  once  more  to  her  post 
of  observation  by  the  window. 

Tlie  house  opposite  was  dark  down  to  the 
parlor.  There  the  blind,  previously  raised, 
was  now  drawn  ov(!r  the  window  :  the  light 
burning  lu-hind  it  showed  her  for  the  first 
lime  that  the  room  was  inhabited.  Her  eyes 
brightened,  and  her  color  rose  as  she  looked 
at  it. 

"  There  he  is  !"  she  said  to  herself,  in  a 
low,  am^ry  whisi)cr.  "  There  he  lives  on  our 
monev,  in  the  house  that  his  father's  warning 
has  closed  against  me !"  She  dropped  the 
blind  which  she  had  raised  to  look  out,  re- 
turned U)  her  trunk,  and  took  from  it  the  gray 
wig  which  wa,"  part  of  her  dramatic  costume 
in  the  character  of  the  North-country  lady. 
The  wig  had  been  crumpled  in  packing:  she 
nut  it  on,  and  went  to  the  toilet-table  to  comb 
it  out.     "  His  father  has  warned  him  against 


100 


NO  NAME. 


Magdalen  Vanstone,"  she  sai.l,  repeating  tlie 
passage  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter,  and  laughing 
bitterly  as  she  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass. 
•'  I  wonder  whether  his  father  has  warned 
him  against  Miss  Garth  ?  To-morrow  is  sooner 
than  I  bargained  for.  No  matter :  to-morrow 
shall  show." 


CHAPTER  TI. 

The  early  morning,  when  Magdalen  rose 
and  looked  out,  was  rloudy  and  overcast. 
But  as  the  time  advanced  to  the  breakfast 
hour,  the  threatening  of  rain  passed  away  ; 
and  she  was  free  to  provide,  without  hindrance 
from  tlie  weather,  for  the  first  necessity  of 
the  day  —  the  necessity  of  securing  the  ab- 
sence of  her  travelling  companion  from  the 
house. 

Mrs.  Wraggc  was  dressed,  armed  at  all 
points  with  her  collection  of  circulars,  and 
eager  to  be  away  by  ten  o'clock.  At  an  ear- 
lier hour  Magdalen  had  provided  for  her  being 
properly  taken  care  of  by  the  landlady's  eldest 
daughter — a  quiet,  well-conducted  girl,  whose 
interest  in  the  shopping  expedition  was  readily 
secured  by  a  little  present  of  money  for  the 
purchase,  on  her  own  account,  of  a  parasol 
and  a  muslin  dress.  Shortly  afier  ten  o'clock 
Magdalen  dismissed  Mrs.  Wragge  and  her 
attendant  in  a  cab.  She  then' joined  the 
landlady  —  who  was  occupied  in  setting  the 
rooms  in  order  up  stairs  —  with  the  object  of 
ascertaining,  by  a  little  well-timed  gossip,  what 
the  daily  habits  might  be  of  the  inmates  of 
the  house. 

She  discovered  that  there;  were  no  other 
lodgers  but  Mrs.  Wragge  and  herself.  The 
landlady's  husband  was  away  all  day,  em- 
ployed at  a  railway  station.  Iler  second 
daughter  was  charged  with  the  care  of  the 
kitchen,  in  the  elder  sister's  absence.  The 
younger  children  were  at  school,  and  would 
be  back  at  one  o'clock  to  dinner.  The  land- 
lady herself  "  got  up  fine  linen  for  ladies," 
and  expected  to  be  occupied  over  her  work 
all  that  morning,  in  a  little  room  built  out  at 
the  back  of  the  premises.  Thus  there  was 
every  facility  for  Magdalen's  leaving  the  house 
in  disguise,  and  leaving  it  unobserved,  pro- 
vided she  went  out  before  the  children  came 
back  to  dinner  at  one  o'clock. 

By  eleven  o'clock  the  apartments  were  set 
in  order,  and  the  landlady  had  retired  to  pur- 
sue her  own  employments.  Magdalen  softly 
'locked  the  door  of  her  room,  drew  the  blind 
■  over  the  window,  and  entered  at  once  on  her 
preparations  for  the  perilous  experiment  of 
the  day. 

The  same  quick  perception  of  dangers  to 
ibe  avoided,  and  difficulties  to  be  overcome, 
which  had  warned  her  to  leave  the  extrava- 
gant part  of  her  character-costume  in  the  box 
•at  Birmingham,  now  kept  her  mind  fully  alive 
■to  the  vast  difference  between  a  disguise  worn 


by  gaslight,  for  the  amusement  of  an  audi- 
ence, and  a  disguise  assumed  by  daylight  to 
deceive  the  searching  eyes  of  two  strangers. 
The  first  article  of  dress  whix;h  she  put  on 
was  an  old  gown  of  her  own  (made  of  the 
material  called  "alpaca"),  of  a  dark-brown 
color,  with  a  neat  pattern  of  little  star-shaped 
spots  in  white.  A  double  flounce  running 
round  the  bottom  of  this  dress  was  the  only 
milliner's  ornament  which  it  presented  —  an 
ornament  not  at  all  out  of  character  with  the 
costume  appropriate  to  an  elderlj'  lady.  The  J 
disguise  of  hc;r  head  and  face  was  the  next  ■ 
object  of  her  attention.  She  fitted  and  ar- 
ranged the  gray  wig  with  the  dexterity  which 
constant  practice  had  given  her;  fixed  the 
false  eyebrows  (made  rather  large,  and  of 
hair  darker  than  the  wig)  carefully  in  their 
position,  with  the  gum  she  had  with  her  for 
the  purpose;  and  stained  her  face  with  the 
customary  stage  materials,  so  as  to  change  the 
transparent  fairness  of  her  complexion  to  the 
dull,  faintly  opaque  color  of  a  woman  in  ill 
health.  The  lines  and  markings  of  age  fol- 
lowed next ;  and  here  the  first  obstacles  pre- 
sented themselves.  The  art  which  succeeded 
by  gaslight  failed  by  day ;  the  difficulty  of 
hiding  the  plainly  artificial  nature  of  the 
marks  was  almost  insuperable.  She  turned 
to  her  trunk,  took  from  it  two  veils,  and  put- 
ting on  her  old-fashioned  bonnet  tried  the 
effect  of  them  in  succession.  One  of  the 
veils  (of  black  lace)  was  too  thick  to  be  worn 
over  the  face  at  that  summer  season  without 
exciting  remark.  The  other,  of  plain  net, 
allowed  her  features  to  be  seen  through  it, 
just  indistinctly  enough  to  permit  the  safe 
introduction  of  certain  lines  (many  fewer  than 
she  was  accustomed  to  use  in  performing  the 
character)  on  the  forehead  and  at  the  sides  of 
the  mouth.  But  the  obstacle  thus  set  aside 
only  opened  the  way  to  a  new  difficulty  —  the 
difficulty  of  keeping  her  veil  down  while  she 
was  speaking  to  other  persons,  without  any 
obvious  reason  for  doing  so.  An  instant's 
consideration,  and  a  chance  look  at  her  little 
china  pallet  of  stage  colors,  suggested  to  her 
ready  invention  the  production  of  a  visible 
excuse  for  wearing  her  veil.  She  deliberately 
disfigured  herself  by  artificially  reddening  the 
insides  of  her  eyelids,  so  as  to  produce  an 
appearance  of  inflammation  which  no  human 
creature  but  a  doctor — and  that  doctor  at 
close  quarters  —  could  have  detected  as  false. 
She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  looked  triumph- 
antly at  the  hideous  transformation  of  herself 
reflected  in  the  glass.  Who  could  think  it 
strange  now  if  she  wore  her  veil  down,  and  if 
she  begged  Mrs.  Lecount's  permission  to  sit 
with  her  back  to  the  light  ? 

Her  last  proceeding  was  to  put  on  the  quiet 
gray  cloak  which  she  had  brought  from  Bir- 
mingham, and  which  had  been  padded  inside 
by  Captain  Wragge's  own  experienced  hands, 
so  as  to  hide  the  youthful  grace  and  beauty  of 
her  back  and  shoulders.     Her  costume  being 


NO  NAME. 


101 


now  complete,  she  practisetl  the  walk  wliieli 
had  been  originally  taught  her  as  appropriate 
to  the  character— a  walk  with  a  slight  limp— 
and  returning  to  the  glass,  after  a  minute's 
trial,  exercised  herself  next  in  the  disguise  of 
her  voice  and  manner.  This  was  the  only 
part  of  the  character  in  which  it  had  been 
])0ssible,  with  her  physical  peculiarities,  to 
produce  an  imitation  of  Miss  (Jarth  ;  and  here 
tiic  resemblance  was  perfect.  The  harsh 
voice,  the  blunt  manner,  the  habit  of  accom- 
j)anvin!i  certain  j)hrases  by  an  emphatic  Itod 
of  tlio  head,  the  Northumbrinu  burr  ex[)rcss- 
iu''  itself  in  e\ery  word  wliicIi  contained  the 
h'tter  "  r"  —  all  these  personal  peculiarities  of 
the  old  north -country  governess  were  repro- 
duced to  thi!  life.  The  personal  transforma- 
tion tims  completed  was  literally  what  Cajitain 
Wragge  had  described  it  to  be — a  triumph  in  j 
the  art  of  self-disguise.  Kxce])ting  the  one 
case  of  seeing  her  face  close,  with  a  strong 
light  on  it,  nobody  who  now  looked  at  IMagda- 
len  could  have  suspected  for  an  instant  that 
she  was  other  than  an  ailing,  ill-made,  un- 
attractive woman  of  fifty  years  old  at  least. 

Before  unlocking  the  door  she  lookeii  about 
her  carefully  to  make  sure  that  none  of  her  | 
stage  materials  were  exjiosed  to  view  in  case  ; 
the  landlady  entered  the  room  in  her  absence.  | 
The  only  forgotten  object    belonging  to   her 
that   she    discovered   was   a   little    packet   of 
Norah's  letters  which  she  had  been   reading 
overnight,  and  which  had    been  accidentally 
pushed  under  the  looking-glass  while  she  was 
engaged  in  dressing  herself.     As  she  took  up 
the   letters   to  put  them   away    the    thought 
struck  her  for  the  first  time,  "  Would  Norah 
know  me  now  if  we  met  each  other  in  the 
street  V"    She  looked  in  the  glass  and  smiled 
sadly.     "  No,"  she  said,  "  not  even  Norah." 

She  unlocked  the  door  after  first  looking  at 
her  watch.  It  was  close  on  twelve  o'clock. 
There  was  barely  an  hour  left  to  try  her  des- 
perate experiment,  and  to  return  to  the  lodg- 
ing before  the  landlady's  children  came  back 
from  school. 

An  instant's  listening  on  the  landing  as- 
sured her  that  all  was  quiet  in  the  passage 
below.  She  noiselessly  descended  the  stairs, 
and  gained  the  street  without  having  met  any 
living  creature  on  her  way  otit  of  the  house. 
In  another  minute  she  had  crossed  the  road 
and  had  knocked  at  Noel  Vanst^me's  door. 

The  door  was  opened  by  the  same  woman- 
servant  whom  she  had  followed  on  the  previ- 
ous evening  to  the  stationer's  shop.  With  a 
momentary  tremor,  which  recalled  the  memo- 
rable first  night  of  her  appearance  in  public, 
Magdalen  inquired  (in  Miss  Garth's  voice, 
an(i  with  Miss  (iarth's  manner)  for  Mrs.  Le- 
count. 

"  Mrs.  Lccount  has  gone  out,  ma'am,"  said 
the  servant. 

"  Is  Mr.  Vanstone  at  home  ?"  asked  Mag- 
dalen, her  resolution  a-sserting  itself  at  once 
against  the  first  obstacle  that  opposed  it. 


"  My  master  is  not  up  yet,  ma'am." 

Another  ehei;k  !  A  weaker  nature  would 
have  accepted  the  warning.  Magdalen's  na- 
ture rose  in  revolt  against  it. 

"  What  time  will  Mrs.  Lecount  be  back  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  About  one  o'clock,  ma'am.  ' 

"  Say,  if  you  please,  ttiat  I  will  call  again 
as  soon  after  one  o'clock  as  possible.  I  par- 
ticularly wish  to  see  Mrs.  Lecount.  My  name 
is  Miss  (iarth." 

She  turned  and  left  the  house,  (ioing  back 
to  her  own  room  was  out  of  the  (juestion.  The 
servant  (as  Magdalen  knew  by  not  hearing 
the  door  close)  was  looking  after  her;  and, 
moreover,  she  would  expose  herself,  if  she 
went  indoors,  to  the  risk  of  going  out  again 
exactly  at  the  tintc  when  the  landlady's  chil- 
dren were  sure  to  be  about  the  house.  She 
turned  mechanically  to  the  right,  walked  on 
until  she  reacheil  Vauxhall  Bridge,  and  waited 
there  looking  out  over  the  river. 

The  interval  of  unemployed  time  now  be- 
fore her  was  nearly  an  hour.  How  should 
she  occupy  it  ? 

As  she  asked  herself  the  question,  the 
thought  which  had  stru<k  her  when  she  put 
away  the  packet  of  Norah's  letters  rose  in  her 
mind  once  more.  A  su<lden  impulse  to  test 
the  miserable  completeness  of  her  disguise 
mixed  with  the  higher  and  purer  feeling  at 
her  heart,  and  streiigtiiened  her  natural  long- 
ing to  see  her  sistei-'s  face  again,  though  she 
dare  not  discover  herself  and  speak.  Norah's 
later  letters  had  described  in  tlie  fullest  detail 
her  life  as  a  governess — her  hours  for  teach- 
ing, her  hours  of  leisure,  her  hours  for  walking 
out  with  her  puiiils.  There  was  just  time,  if 
she  could  find  a  vehicle  at  once,  for  Magdalen 
to  drive  to  the  house  of  Norah's  employer, 
with  the  chance  of  getting  there  a  few  minutes 
before  the  hour  when  her  sister  wouhl  be 
going  out.  "  One  look  at  her  will  tell  me 
more  than  a  hun<lred  letters  I"  With  that 
thought  in  her  heart  — with  the  one  object  of 
following  Norah  on  her  daily  walk,  under  pro- 
tection of  the.  disguise  —  Magdalen  hastened 
over  th(!  bridge  and  made  for  the  northern 
bank  of  the  river. 

So,  at  the  turning-point  of  her  life — so,  in 
the  interval  before  she  took  the  irrevocable 
step,  and  passed  the  threshold  of  Noel  Van- 
stontfs  door — the  forces  of  (iood  triumphing 
in  the  strife  for  her  over  the  fones  of  Evil, 
turned  her  back  on  the  scene  of  her  meditated 
deception,  atid  hurried  her  mercifully  farther 
and  tart  her  away  from  the  fatal  house. 

She  stoj)ped  the  fir.-st  empty  cab  that  passed 
her;  told  the  driver  to  go  to  New  Street, 
Spring  Gardens  :  and  promised  to  double  his 
fare  it  he  reached  his  destination  by  a  given 
time.  The  man  earned  the  money  —  more 
than  earned  it,  as  the  event  proved.  Mag- 
dalen lia<i  not  taken  ten  steps  in  advance 
along  New  Street,  walking  toward  St.  James' 


102 


NO  NAME. 


Park,  before  the  door  of  a  house  beyond  her 
opened  and  a  lady  in  mourning  came  out 
accompanied  by  two  little  girls."  The  lady 
also  took  the  direction  of  the  park,  without 
tm-ning  her  head  toward  Magdalen,  as  she 
descended  the  house-step.  It  mattered  little; 
Magdalen's  heart  looked  through  her  eyes, 
and  told  her  that  she  saw  Norah. 

She  followed  them  into  St.  Jamer/  Park, 
and  thence  (along  tiie  Mall)  into  the  Green 
Park,  venturing  closer  and  closer  as  they 
reached  the  grass  and  ascended  the  i-ising 
ground  in  the  direction  of  Hyde  Park  Corner. 
Her  eager  eyes  devoured  every  detail  in  No- 
rah's  dress,  and  detected  the  slightest  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  her  figure  and  her 
bearing.  She  had  become  thinner  since  tlie 
autumn  ;  her  head  drooped  a  little ;  she  walk- 
ed wearily.  Her  mourning  dress,  worn  with 
the  modest  grace  and  neatness  which  no  mis- 
fortune could  take  from  her,  was  suited  to  her 
altered  station  ;  her  black  gown  was  made  of 
stuff;  her  black  shawl  and  bonnet  were  of 
the  plainest  and  cheapest  kind.  The  two 
little  girls  walking  on  either  side  of  her  were 
dressed  in  silk.  Magdalen  instinctively  hated 
them. 

She  made  a  wide  circuit  on  the  grass,  so  as 
to  turn  gradually  and  meet  her  sister,  M-ithout 
exciting  suspicion  that  the  meeting  was  con- 
trived. Her  heart  beat  fast ;  a  burning  heat 
glowed  in  her  as  she  thought  of  her  false  hair, 
her  false  color,  her  false  dress,  and  saw  the 
dear  familiar  face  coming  nearer  and  nearer. 
They  passed  each  other  close.  Norah "s  dark, 
gentle  eyes  looked  up,  with  a  deeper  liglit  in 
tliem,  with  a  sadder  beauty  than  of  old  — 
rested  all  unconscious  of  the  truth  on  her  sis- 
ter's face  —  iind  looked  away  from  it  again,  as 
from  the  face  of  a  stranger.  That  glance  of 
an  instant  struck  Magdalen  to  the  heart.  Slie 
stood  rooted  to  the  ground  after  Norah  had 
passed  by.  A  horror  of  the  vile  disguise  that 
concealed  her;  a  yearning  to  burst  its  tram- 
mels and  hide  her  shameful  painted  face  on 
Norah's  bosom,  took  possession  of  her,  body 
and  souL     She  turned  and  looked  back. 

Norah  and  the  two  children  had  reached 
the  higher  ground,  and  were  close  to  one  of 
the  gates  in  the  iron  railing  which  fenced  the 
pai'k  from  the  street.  Drawn  by  an  irresistible 
fascination,  Magdalen  followed  them  again, 
gained  on  them  as  they  reached  the  gate,  and 
heard  the  voices  of  the  two  children  raised 
in  angry  dispute  which  way  they  wanted 
to  Avalk  next.  She  saw  Norali  take  them 
through  the  gate,  and  then  stoop  and  speak  to 
them,  while  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  cross 
the  road.  They  only  grew  the  louder  and  the 
angrier  for  what  she  said.  The  youngest — a 
girl  of  eight  or  nine  years  old  —  flew  into  a 
child's  vehement  passion,  cried,  screamed,  and 
even  kicked  at  the  governess.  The  people  in 
the  street  stopped  and  laughed  ;  some  of  them 
jestingly  advised  a  little  wholesome  correction  ; 
one  woman  asked  Norah  if  she  was  the  child's 


mother;  another  pitied  her  audibly  for  being 
the  child's  governess.  Before  JNIagdalen  could 
push  her  way  throupjh  the  crowd — before  her 
all-mastering  anxiety  to  help  her  sister  had 
blinded  her  to  every  other  consideration,  and 
had  brought  her,  self- betrayed,  to  Norah's 
side — an  open  carriage  passed  the  pavement 
slowly,  hindered  in  its  progress  by  the  press  of 
vehicles  before  it.  An  old  lady  seated  inside 
heard  the  chikfs  cries,  recognized  Norah,  and 
called  to  her  immediately.  The  footman  parted 
the  crowd,  and  the  children  were  put  into  the 
carriage.  "  It 's  lucky  I  happened  to  pass  this 
way,"  said  the  old  lady,  beckoning  contemptu- 
ously to  Norah  to  take  her  place  on  the  front 
seat ;  "  you  never  could  manage  my  daughter's 
children,  and  you  never  will."  Tiie  footman 
put  up  the  steps  —  the  carriage  drove  on  with 
the  children  and  the  governess — the  crowd  dis- 
persed— and  Magdalen  was  alone  again. 

•"  So  be  it !"'  sJie  thought,  bitterly.  "  I  should 
only  have  distressed  her.  We  should  only 
have  had  the  misery  of  parting  to  suffer  again." 

She  mechanically  retraced  her  steps;  she 
returned,  as  in  a  dream,  to  the  open  space  of 
the  park.  Arming  itself  treacherously  with 
the  strength  of  her  love  for  her  sister,  with 
the  vehemence  of  the  indignation  that  .she  felt 
for  her  sister's  sake,  the  terrible  temptation  of 
her  life  fastened  its  hold  on  her  more  firmly 
than  ever.  Through  all  the  paint  and  dis- 
figurement of  the  disguise,  the  fierce  despair 
of  that  strong  and  passionate  nature  lowered 
haggard  and  horrible.  Norah  made  an  object 
of  public  curiosity  and  amusement;  Norah 
reprimanded  in  the  open  street ;  Norah  the 
hired  victim  of  an  old  woman's  insolence  and 
a  child's  ill-temper  —  and  the  same  man  to 
thank  for  it  who  had  sent  Frank  to  China! — 
and  that  man's  son  to  thank  after  him  1  The 
thought  of  her  sister,  which  had  turned  her 
from  the  scene  of  her  meditated  deception, 
which  had  made  the  consciousness  of  her  own 
disguise  hateful  to  her — was  now  the  thought 
which  sanctioned  that  means,  or  any  means, 
to  compass  her  end ;  the  thought  which  set 
wings  to  her  feet,  and  hurried  her  back  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  fatal  house. 

She  left  the  park  again,  and  found  hej-self 
in  the  streets,  Avithout  knowing  where.  Once 
more  she  hailed  the  first  cab  that  passed  her, 
and  told  the  man  to  drive  to  Vauxhall  Walk. 

The  change  from  walking  to  riding  quieted 
her.  She  felt  her  attention  returning  to  lier- 
self  and  her  dress.  The  necessity  of  making 
sure  that  no  accident  had  happened  to  her  dis- 
guise, in  the  interval  since  she  liad  left  her 
own  room,  impressed  itself  immediately  on  her 
mind.  She  stopped  the  driver  at  the  first 
pastry-cook's  shop  which  he  passed,  and  there 
obtained  the  means  of  consulting  a  looking- 
glass  before  she  ventured  back  to  Vauxhall 
Walk. 

Her  gray  head-dress  was  disordered,  and  the 
old-fashioned  bonnet  was  a  little  on  one  side. 


NO  NAME. 


lOS 


Notliin<;  else  had  suffered.  She  sot  right  the 
few  defects  in  her  costume,  and  returned  to 
the  cab.  It  was  half-past  one  wlien  she  ap- 
proached the  house  and  knocked,  for  the  sec- 
ond time,  at  Noel  Vanstone's  door.  The 
woman-servant  opened  it,  as  before. 

"  Has  Mrs.  Lecount  come  back  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  Step  this  way,  if  you 
please." 

The  servant  preceded  INIagdalen  along  an 
empty  passa;j;e,  and  ieadinu'  her  past  an  un- 
carpeted  staircase,  openeil  the  door  of  a  room 
at  the  back  of  the  liouse.  The  room  was 
liidited  by  hne  window  looking  out  on  a  yard  ; 
the  walls'  were  bare  ;  the  boaidcd  floor  was 
uncovered.  Two  bedroom  chairs  stood  against 
the  wall,  and  a  kit,(dien  table  was  ])laced  un- 
der the  window,  (hi  the  table  stood  a  glass 
tank  filled  with  water,  and  ornamented  in  the 
middle  by  a  miniatui-c  pyramid  of  rock-work 
interlaced  with  weeds.  Snails  elyng  to  the 
sides  of  the  tank  ;  tadpoles  and  tiny  fish  swam 
swiftly  in  the  green  v.ater ;  slip])ery  efts  and 
slimy  frogs  twiiuul  their  noiseless  way  in  and 
out  of  the  weed}' rock -work  ;  and  on  the  top 
of  the  j)yrami(l  tiiere  sat  solitary,  cold  as 
the  stone,  brown  as  the  stone,  motionless  as 
the  stone,  a  little  bright-eyed  toad.  The  art 
of  kee])ing  fish  and  reptiles  as  domestic  pets 
had  not  at  that  time  been  popularized  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  Magdalen,  on  entt'ring  the  room, 
started  back  in  irrepressible  astonishment  and 
disgust  from  the  first  specimen  of  an  Aquarium 
that  she  had  ever  seen. 

''  Don't  be  alarmed,"  said  a  woman's  voice 
behind  her.     "  My  pets  hurt  nobody.' 

Magdalen  turned  and  confronted  Mrs.  Le- 
count. She  had  expected — -founding  her  an- 
ticipations on  the  letter  which  the  housekeeper 
had  written  to  her — to  see  a  hard,  wily,  ill- 
favored,  insolent  old  woman.  She  found 
hers<'lf  in  the  presence  of  a  lady  of  mild, 
ingratiating  manners,  whose  dress  was  the 
perfeition  of  neatness,  taste,  and  matronly 
eimplicity;  whose  personal  appearance  was 
little  less  than  a  triumph  of  physical  resist- 
ance to  the  deteriorating  influence  of  time. 
If  Mrs.  Le(;ount  had  struck  some  fifteen  or 
sixteen  years  off  her  real  age,  and  had  as- 
serted herself  to  be  eight-and-thirty,  there 
would  not  have  been  one  man  in  a  thousand, 
or  our  woman  in  a  hundred,  who  Avould  have 
liesitated  to  believe  her.  Her  dark  hair  was 
just  turning  to  gray,  and  no  more.  It  was 
plainly  parted  under  a  spotless  lace  cap,  spar- 
iii'dy  ornamented  with  mourning  ribbons.  Not 
a  wrinkle  appcari'd  on  her  smooth,  white 
foreiiead,  or  her  plump  white  cheeks.  Her 
double  chin  was  dimpled,  and  her  teeth  were 
marvels  of  whiteness  and  regularity.  Her 
lips  might  have  been  critically  considered 
fts  too  thin,  if  they  had  not  been  accustomed 
to  make  the  lx!st  of  their  defects  by  means 
of  a  pleading  and  persuasive  smile.  Her 
large  l)lack  eyes  might  have  looked  fierce 
if  they  had  been  set  in  the  face   of  another 


woman  ;  they  were  mild  and  melting  in  the 
face  of  Mrs.  Lecount;  they  were  tenderly 
interested  in  everything  she  looked  at — in 
Magdalen;  in  the  toad  on  the  rock -work  ;  in 
the  back-yard  view  from  the  window  ;  in  her 
own  plump,  fair  hands,  which  she  rubbed 
sot'tly  one  over  the  other  while  she  spoke  ;  in 
her  own  pretty  cambrics  chemisette,  which 
she  had  a  habit  of  looking  at  complacently 
while  she  listened  to  others.  The  elegant 
black  gown  in  which  she  mourned  the  mem- 
ory of  Michael  Vanstone  was  not  a  mere 
dress  —  it  was  a  well-made  comj)liment  paid 
to  Death.  Her  innocent  wliite  muslin  apron 
was  a  little  domestic  poem  in  itself  Her  jet 
ear-rings  were  so  modest  in  their  pretensions 
that  a  Quaker  might  have  looked  at  them 
and  committed  no  sin.  The  comely  plump- 
ness of  her  face  was  matched  by  the  comely 
plumpness  of  her  figifre  :  it  glided  smoothly 
over  the  ground  ;  it  flowed  in  sed.ate  undu- 
lations when  she  walked.  There  are  not 
many  men  who  could  have  observed  Mrs. 
Lecount  entirely  from  the  Platonic  point  of 
view  —  lads  in  their  teens  would  have  found 
her  irresistible — women  only  could  have  hard- 
ened their  hearts  against  her,  and  mercilessly 
forced  their  way  inward  through  that  fair  and 
smiling  surface.  Magdalen's  first  glance  at 
this  Venus  of  the  autumn  period  of  female 
life  more  than  satisfied  her  that  she  had  done 
well  to  feel  her  ground  in  disguise,  before  she 
ventured  on  matching  herself  against  Mrs. 
Lecount. 

"  Have  1  the  pleasure  of  addressing  th.e 
lady  who  called  this  morning  V"  imjuired  the 
housekeeper.  "  Am  I  speaking  to  Miss 
(iarth  V" 

Something  in  the  (wpres.sion  of  her  eyes,  as 
she  asked  that  (]uestion,  warned  jMagdalen  to 
turn  her  face  further  inward  from  the  window 
than  she  had  turned  it  yet.  The  bare  doubt 
whether  the  housekeeper  might  not  have  seen 
her  already  under  too  strong  a  light  shook  hi-r 
self-possession  for  the  moment.  She  gave,  her- 
self time  to  recover  it,  and  merely  answered 
by  a  bow. 

"  Accept  my  excuses,  ma'am,  for  the  place 
in  which  T  am  compelled  to  receive  you," 
proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount,  in  fluent  Kiifdish, 
spoken  with  a  foreign  accent.  "  Mr.  Van- 
stone  is  only  here  for  a  ti'mporary  purpose. 
We  leave  for  the  sea-side  to-morrow  after- 
noon ;  and  it  has  not  been  thought  worth 
while  to  set  the  house  in  proper  order.  Will 
you  take  a  seat,  and  oblige  me  by  mentioning 
the  object  of  ycur  visit?" 

She  glided  imper(ei)tibly  a  step  or  two 
nearer  to  Magdalen,  and  ])laced  a  chair  for 
her  exactly  opposite  tlie  light  from  the  win- 
dow. "  I'ray  sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount, 
looking  with  the  tenderest  interest  at  the 
visitor's  inflamed  eyes  through  the  visitor's 
net  veil. 

"  I  am  suffering,  as  you  sec,  from  a  com- 
plaint in  the  eyes,"  replied  Magdalen,  steadily 


104 


NO  NAINIE. 


keeping  her  profile  toward  tlie  window,  and 
carefully  pitching  her  voice  to  the  tone  of 
Miss  Garth's.  "  I  must  beg  your  permission 
to  wear  my  veil  down,  and  to  sit  away  from 
the  light."  She  said  those  words  feeling  mis- 
tress of  herself  again.  With  perfect  compos- 
ure she  drew  the  chair  back  into  the  corner 
of  the  room  beyond  the  window ;  and  seated 
herself,  kee{)ing  the  shadow  of  her  bonnet 
well  over  her  face.  Mrs.  Lecount's  persua- 
sive lips  murmured  a  polite  expression  of  sym- 
pathy ;  Mrs.  Lccount'.s  amiable  black  eyes 
looked  more  interested  in  the  strange  lady 
than  ever.  She  placed  a  cliair  for  herself 
exactly  on  a  line  with  Magdalen's,  and  sat 
so  close  to  the  wall  as  to  force  her  visitor 
either  to  turn  her  head  a  little  further  round 
toward  the  window,  or  to  fail  in  politeness  by 
not  looking  at  the  persQn  whom  she  addressed. 
"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  a  confidential 
little  cough.  "  And  to  what  circumstance  am 
I  indebted  for  the  honor  of  this  visit." 

"  May  I  inquire,  first,  if  my  name  happens 
to  be  familiar  to  you  V"  said  Magdalen,  turning 
toward  her  as  a  matter  of  necessity  —  but 
coolly  holding  up  her  handkerchief,  at  the 
same  time,  between  her  face  and  the  light. 

"  No,''  answered  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  another 
little  cough,  rather  harsher  than  the  first; 
'•the  name  of  Mi.ss  Garth  is  not  familiar  to  me." 

"In  that  case,"  pursued  Magdalen,  "  T  shall 
best  explain  the  t)bject  that  causes  me  to 
intrude  on  you  by  mentioning  who  I  am.  I 
lived  for  many  years  as  governess  in  the  family 
of  the  late  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone,  of  Combe- 
Raven,  and  I  come  here  in  the  interest  of  his 
orphan  daughters." 

Mrs.  Lecount's  hands,  which  had  been 
smoothly  sliding  one  over  the  other  up  to  this 
time,  suddenly  stopped;  and  Mrs.  Lecount's 
lips  self-1'orgetfully  shutting  up,  owned  they 
were  too  thin  at  the  very  outset  of  the  inter- 
view. 

"  I  am  surprised  you  can  bear  the  light  out 
of  doors  without  a  green  shade,"  she  quietly 
remarked,  leaving  the  false  Miss  Garth's  an- 
nouncement of  herself  as  completely  unnoticed 
as  if  she  had  not  spoken  at  all. 

"  I  find  a  sliade  over  my  eyei  keeps  them 
too  hot  at  this  time  of  the  year,"  rejoined 
jNIagdalen,  steadily  matching  the  housekeep- 
er's conq^osure.  "  May  I  ask  whether  you 
heard  what  I  said  just  now  on  the  subject  of 
my  errand  in  this  house  ?" 

"  May  I  inquire  on  my  side,  ma'am,  in  what 
way  that  errand  can  possibly  concern  mef" 
retorted  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  come  to 
you  because  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  intentions 
toward  the  two  young  ladies  were  made  known 
to  them  in  the  form  of  a  letter  from  yourself." 

That  plain  answer  had  its  efTect.  It  warned 
Mrs.  Lecount  that  the  strange  lady  was  better 
inforuied  than  she  had  at  first  suspected,  and 
that  it  might  hardly  be  wise,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, to  dismiss  her  unheard. 


"  Pray  pardon  me,"  said  the  housekeeper, 
"  I  scarcely  understood  before ;  I  perfectly 
understand*^  now.  You  are  mistaken,  ma'am, 
in  sup])osing  that  I  am  of  any  importance,  or 
that  I  exercise  any  influence  in  this  painful 
matter.  I  am  the  mouth-piece  of  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone — the  pen  he  holds,  if  you  will  ex- 
cuse the  expression,  nothing  more.  He  is  an 
invalid;  and,  like  other  invalid?,  he  has  his 
})ad  days  and  his  good.  It  was  his  bad  day 
when  that  answer  was  written  to  the  young 
person  —  shall  I  call  her  Miss  Vanstone  ?  I 
will  with  pleasure,  poor  girl ;  for  who  am  I  to 
make  distinctions,  and  what  is  it  to  me  whether 
her  parents  were  married  or  not?  As  I  was 
saying,  it  was  one  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  bad 
days  when  that  answer  was  sent,  and  therefore 
I  iiad  to  write  it,  sinqjly  as  his  secretary,  for 
want  of  a  better.  If  you  wish  to  speak  on  the 
subject  of  these  young  ladies  —  shall  I  call 
them  young  ladies,  as  you  did  just  now  ?  no, 
poor  things,  I  will  call  them  the  Miss  Van- 
stones.  If  you  wish  to  speak  on  the  subject 
of  these  Miss  Vanstones,  I  will  mention  your 
name,  and  your  object  in  favoring  me  with 
this  call,  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  He  is  alone 
in  the  parlor,  and  this  is  one  of  his  good  days. 
1  have  the  influence  of  an  old  servant  over 
him,  and  I  will  use  that  influence  with  pleas- 
ure in  your  behalf.  Shall  I  go  at  once  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Lecount,  rising  with  the  friendliest 
anxiety  to  make  herself  useful. 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Magdalen,  with  grate- 
ful alacrity ;  "  and  if  I  am  not  taking  anj 
undue  advantage  of  your  kindness." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount, 
"  you  are  laying  me  under  an  obligation — you 
are  permitting  me,  in  my  very  limited  way,  to 
assist  the  performance  of  a  benevolent  action." 
She  bowed,  smiled,  and  glided  out  of  the  room. 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  allowed  the  anger 
which  she  had  suppressed  in  Mrs.  Lecount's 
presence  to  break  free  from  her.  For  want  of 
a  nobler  object  of  attack,  it  took  the  direction 
of  the  toad.  The  sight  of  the  hideous  little 
reptile  sitting  placid  on  his  rock  throne,  with 
his  bright  eyes  staring  impenetrably  into  va- 
cancy, irritated  every  nerve  in  her  body.  She 
looked  at  the  creature  with  a  shrinking  inten- 
sity of  hatred ;  she  whispered  at  it  maliciously 
through  her  set  teeth.  "  I  wonder  whose  blood 
runs  coldest,"  she  said,  "  yours,  you  little  mon- 
ster, or  Mrs.  Lecount's  ?  I  wonder  which  is 
the  slimiest,  her  heart  or  your  back  ?  You 
hateful  wretch,  do  you  know  what  your  mis- 
tress is  ?     Your  mistress  is  a  devil !" 

The  speckled  skin  under  the  toad's  mouth 
mysteriously  wrinkled  itself,  then  slowly  ex- 
panded again,  as  if  he  had  swallowed  the 
words  just  addressed  to  him.  Magdalen  started 
back  in  disgust  from  the  first  perceptible  move- 
ment in  the  creature's  body,  trifling  as  it  was, 
and  returned  to  her  chair.  She  had  not  saated 
herself  again  a  moment  too  soon.  The  door 
opened  noiselessly,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  appeared 
once  more. 


NO  NAME. 


105 


"  Mr.  Vanstone  will  see  you,"  she  said,  "  if 
you  will  kindly  wait  a  few  minutes.  He  will 
ring  the  parlor-bell  when  his  present  occupa- 
tion is  at  an  end,  and  he  is  ready  to  receive 
you.  Be  careful,  ma'am,  not  to  depress  his 
spirits,  or  to  agitate  him  in  any  way.  His 
heart  has  been  a  cause  of  serious  anxiety  to 
those  about  Iiim  from  his  earliest  years.  There 
is  no  positive  disease;  there  is  only  a  chronic 
feebleness  —  a  fatty  degeneration  —  a  want  of 
TJtal  power  in  the  organ  itself  His  heart  will 
go  on  well  enough  if  you  don't  give  his  heart 
too  much  to  do  —  tliat  is  the  advice  of  all  the 
medical  men  who  have  .^een  bim.  You  will 
not  forget  it,  and  you  will  keep  a  guard  over 
your  conversation  accordingly.  Talking  of 
medical  men,  liave  you  ever  tried  tlie  (lolden 
Ointment  for  that  sad  affliction  in  your  eyes? 
It  has  been  described  to  me  as  an  excellent 
remedy." 

"  It  has  not  succeeded  in  my  case,"  replied 
Magdalen,  sharply.  "  Before  1  see  Mv.  Noel 
Vau.^tone,"  shi!  continued.  "  may  I  inquire — " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Mrs.  Le- 
count.  "  Does  your  question  refer  in  any  way 
to  those  two  poor  girls  V" 

"  It  refers  to  the  Miss  Vanstones." 

"  Then  I  can't  enter  into  it.  P^xcuse  me,  I 
really  can't  discuss  these  poor  girls  (I  am  so 
glad  to  hear  you  call  them  the  Miss  Van- 
stones  !)  except  in  my  master's  jjresence,  and 
by  my  master's  express  permission.  Let  us 
talk  of  something  else  while  we  are  waiting 
here.  Will  you  notice  my  glass  Tank?  1 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  a  per- 
fect novelty  in  England." 

"I  looked  at  the  Tank  while  you  Avere  out 
of  the  room,"  said  M.igdalen. 

"Did  you?  You  take  no  interest  in  the 
subject,  I  dare  say  ?  Quite  natural.  I  took 
no  interest  either  until  1  was  married.  My 
dear  husband — dead  many  years  since — form- 
ed my  tastes,  and  elevated  me  to  himself  You 
have  heard  of  the  late  Professor  Lecomte,  the 
eminent  Swiss  naturalist  ?  I  am  his  widow. 
The  Englisli  circle  at  Zurich  (where  I  lived  in 
my  late  master's  service)  Anglicized  my  name 
to  Lci'ount.  Your  generous  country -people 
will  have  nothing  foreign  about  them  —  not 
even  a  name — if  they  can  help  it.  But  I  was 
speaking  of  my  husband  —  my  dear  husband, 
who  pt-rmitted  me  to  assist  him  in  his  pursuits. 
I  have  iiad  only  one  interest  since  liis  deatli — 
an  interest  in  science.  Eminent  in  many 
things,  the  Professor  was  great  at  reptiles.  He 
lelt  me  his  Subje(,'ts  and  his  Tank.  I  had  no 
other  legacy.  There  is  the  Tank.  All  the 
Subjects  died  but  this  quiet  little  fellow — this 
nice  little  toad  I  Are  you  surprised  at  ray 
liking  him  ?  There  is  nothing  to  be  surprised 
at.  The  Professor  lived  long  enough  to  ele- 
vate me  above  the  common  prejudice  against 
the  reptile  creation.  Properly  understood,  the 
reptile  creation  i.'*  beautiful.  Properly  dissect- 
ed, the  reptile  creation  is  instructive  in  tlie  last 
degree."  She  stretched  out  her  little  fiuger 
14 


and  gently  stroked  the  toad's  back  with  the 
tip  of  it.  "  So  refreshing  to  the  touch  !"  said 
Mri.  Lccount.  "  So  nice  and  cool  this  sum- 
mer weatlier !" 

The  bell  from  the  parlor  rang.  Mrs.  Le- 
count  rose,  bent  fondly  over  the  A([uarium, 
and  chirruped  to  the  toad  at  parting  as  if  it 
had  been  a  bird.  "  Mr.  Vanstone  is^-eady  to 
receive  you.  Follow  me,  if  you  please.  Miss 
Garth."  With  these  words  siie  opened  the 
door  and  led  the  way  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTEB  III. 

"  I\Iiss  Garth,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount, 
opening  tlie  parlor  door,  and  announcing  the 
visitor's  appearance  with  the  tone  and  man- 
ner of  a  well-bred  servant. 

Magdalen  found  herself  in  a  long,  narrow 
room,  consisting  of  a  back  parlor  and  a  front 
parlor,  which  had  been  thrown  into  one  by 
opening  the  Iblding  -  doors  between  them. 
Seated  not  far  from  the  front  window,  with 
his  back  to  the  light,  slie  saw  a  frail,  flaxen- 
haired,  self-satisiied  little  man,  clothed  in  a 
fair  white  dressing-gown,  many  sizes  too  large 
for  him,  with  a  nosegay  of  violets  drawn  neat- 
I  ly  through  the  button-hole  over  his  breast. 
I  He  looked  from  thirty  to  five-and-thirty  years 
I  old.  His  complexion  was  as  delicate  as  a 
I  young  girl's,  his  eyes  were  of  the  lightest  blue, 
I  his  upper  lip  was  adorned  by  a  weak  little 
j  wliite  mustache,  waxed  and  twisted  at  either 
1  end  into  a  tiiin  spiral  curl.  Wlien  any  object 
specially  attracted  his  atti'ution  he  half-closed 
his  eyelids  to  look  af  it.  When  he  smiled,  the 
skin  at  his  temples  crumpled  itself  up  into  a 
nest  of  wicked  litile  wrinkles.  He  had  a 
])late  of  strawberries  on  his  lap,  with  a  nap- 
kin under  them  to  preserve  the  purity  of  his 
white  dressing-gown.  At  his  right  hand  stood 
a  large  round  table,  covered  with  a  collection 
of  foreign  curiosities,  which  seemed  to  have 
been  brought  together  from  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe.  Stufied  birds  from  Africa,  por- 
celain monsters  from  China,  silver  ornaments 
and  utensils  from  India  and  Peru,  mosaic 
work  from  Italy,  and  bronzes  from  France, 
were  all  heaped  together,  pell-mell,  with  the 
coarse  deal  boxes  and  dingy  leather  cases 
which  served  to  pack  them  for  travelling.  The 
little  man  ajiologized,  with  a  cheerful  and 
simpering  conceit,  for  his  litter  of  curiosities, 
his  dressing-gown,  and  his  delicate  health; 
and  waving  iiis  hand  toward  a  chair,  placed 
his  attention,  with  pragmatical  politeness,  at 
the  visitor's  disposal.  Magdalen  looked  at 
him  with  a  momentary  doubt  whether  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  not  deceived  her.  Was  this  the 
man  who  mercilessly  followed  the  path  on 
which  his  merciless  fath<>r  had  walked  before 
him  ?  Shi!  could  hardly  believe  it.  ''  Take  a 
seat,  Mi.ss  (iarth,"  he  re]>eate<l.  Observing 
her  hesitation,  and  announcing  his  own  name, 


106 


XO  NAME. 


in  a  hi'sli,  thin,  fretfully-consequential  Toice : 
"  I  am  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  You  wisbed  to 
see  me — here  I  am  !  " 

"  May  I  be  permitted  to  retire,  Sir  ?  "  in- 
quired Mrs.  Lecount. 

"Certainly  not ! "  replied  ber  master.  "Stay 
here,  Lecount,  and  keep  us  company.  Mrs. 
Lecount  has  my  liille.=t  confidence."  he  con- 
tinued, addressinij'  Magdalen.  ""Whatever 
you  say  to  me  ma'am,  you  say  to  her.  She  is 
a  domestic  treasure.  There  is  not  another 
house  in  England  has  such  a  treasure  as  Mrs. 
Lecount." 

The  housekeeper  li.stened  to  the  praise  of 
her  domestic  virtues  with  eyes  immovably 
ii.xcd  on  her  ele<iant  chemisette.  But  Mag- 
dalen's quick  penetration  had  previously  de- 
tected a  look  that  passed  between  Mrs.  Le- 
count and  her  master,  which  suggested  that 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  had  been  instructed  be- 
ibrehand  whnt  to  say  and  do  in  his  visitor's 
presence.  The  suspicion  of  this,  and  the  ob- 
stacles Avhich  the  room  presenti'd  to  arrang- 
ing her  position  in  it  so  as  to  keep  her  face 
from  the  light,  warned  Magdalen  to  be  on  her 
guard. 

She  had  taken  her  chair  at  first  nearly  mid- 
way in  the  room.  An  instant's  atter-reflection 
induced  her  to  move  her  .seat  toward  the  left 
hand,  so  as  to  place  herself  just  inside,  and! 
c!o.>e  against,  the  left  post  of  the  fblding-door.  I 
In  this  position  she  dextrously  barred  the  only 
passage  by  which  Mrs.  Lecou)it  could  have 
skirted  round  the  large  table,  and  contrived 
to  front  Magdalen  by  taking  a  (dialr  at  her 
master's  side.  On  the  right  hand  of  the  table 
the  em[jty  space  was  well  occupied  by  the 
fire-place  and  fender,  by  some  travelling 
trunks,  and  a  large  packing-case.  Tliere  was 
no  alternative  left  for  Mrs.  Lecount  but  to 
yjlace  herself  on  a  line  with  Magdalen,  a<;ainst 
rhe  opposite  post  of  the  tblding-door,  or  to 
jtush  rudely  jiast  the  visitor,  with  the  obvious 
intention  of  getting  in  front  of  her.  With  an 
expres-sive  little  cough,  and  witli  one  steady 
look  at  her  master,  the  housekeeper  conceded 
tlie  point,  and  took  !ier  seat  against  the  right- 
hand  dool--post.  "Wait  a  little,"  thought  Mrs. 
Lecount,"  "my  turn  next!" 

"  Mind  what  you  are  about,  ma'am  !"  cried 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  as  Magdalen  acciclentnlly 
approached  the  table  in  moving  her  chair. 
"  Mind  the  sleeve  of  your  cloak !  Excuse, 
me,  you  nearly  knocked  down  that  silver 
candlestick.  Pi-ay  don't  suppose  it  's  a  com- 
mon candlestick.  '  It  'g  nothing  of  the  sort  — 
it  's  a  Peruvian  candlestick.  There  are  only 
three  of  that  pattern  in  the  world.  One  is  in 
the  possession  of  the  President  of  Peru  ;  one 
is  locked  up  in  the  Vatican ;  and  one  is  on 
My  table.  It  cost  ten  pounds;  it  's  worth 
fifty.  One  of  my  farther's  bargains,  ma'am. 
AH  these  things  are  my  farther's  bargains. 
There  is  not  another  house  in  England  which 
has  such  curiosities  as  these.  Sit  down,  Le- 
count ;  I  beg  you  will  make  yourself  comfort- 


I  able.     Mrs.  Lecount '  is   like   the   curiosities^ 

'  Miss  Garth  —  she  is  one  of  my  father's  bar- 

I  gains.     You  are  one  of  my  father's  bargains, 

are   you   not,    Lecount  ?     My   father   was   a 

I  remarkable   man,  ma'am.      You  will  be  re- 

niinded  of  him  here  at  every  turn.     I  have 

got  his  dressing-gown  on  at  this  moment.     No 

I  such  linen  as  this  is  made  now;  you  can't  get 

:  it  for  love  or  money.     Would  you  like  to  feel 

the  texture  ?     Perhaps  you  're  no  judge  of 

texture  ?     Perhaps  you  would  prefer  talking 

i  to  me  about  these  two  pupils  of  yours?    They 

I  are  two,  are  they  not  ?     Are  they  fine  girls  ? 

j  Plump,  fresh,  full-blown  English  beauties  ?" 

I      "  Excuse  me.   Sir,"   interposed    Mrs.    Le- 

!  count,  sorrowfully.     "  I  must  really  beg  per- 

j  mission  to   retire  if  you   speak  of   the  poor 

things  in  that  way.     I  can't  sit  by,  Sir,  and 

hear   them   turned   into   ridicule.      Consider 

tjicir  position  ;  consider  Miss  Garth." 

"  You  good  creature  I"  said  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone, surveying  the  housekeeper  through  bis 
half-closed  eyelids.  "You  excellent  Lecount! 
I  assure  you,  ma'am,  Mrs.  Lecount  is  a  worthy 
creature.  You  will  observe  that  she  pities  the 
two  girls.  I  don't  go  so  far  as  that  myself,  but 
I  can  make  allowances  for  them.  I  am  a 
large-minded  man.  I  can  make  allowances 
for  them  and  for  you."  He  smiled  Avith  the 
most  cordial  pohteness,  and  helped  himself  to 
a  strawberry  from  the  dish  on  his  lap. 

"  You  shock  Miss  Garth ;  indeed.  Sir, 
without  meaning  it,  you  shock  Miss  Garth," 
remonstrated  Mrs.  Lecount.  She  is  not  ac- 
customed to  you  as  I  am.  Consider  Miss 
Garth,  Sir.  As  a  favor  to  me,  consider  Miss 
Garth." 

Thus  far  Magdalen  had  resolutely  kept 
silence.  The  burning  anger  which  would 
have  betrayed  her  in  an  instant  if  she  had  let 
it  flash  its  way  to  the  surface  throbbed  fast 
and  fiercely  at  her  heart,  and  warned  her, 
while  Noel  Vanstone  was  speaking,  to  close  ber 
lips.  She  would  have  allowed  him  to  talk 
on  uninterruptedly  for  some  minutes  more  if 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  interfered  for  the  second 
time.  The  refined  insolence  of  the  house- 
keeper's pity  was  a  woman's  insolence,  and  it 
stung  her  into  instantly  controlling  herself. 
She  liad  never  more  admirably  imitated  Miss 
Garth's  voice  and  manner  than  when  she 
spoke  her  next  words. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Le- 
count. "  I  make  no  claim  to  be  treated  with 
any  extraordinai'y  consideration.  I  am  a  gov- 
erness, and  I  don't  expect  it.  I  have  only  one 
favor  to  ask.  I  beg  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  for 
his  own  sake,  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to 
him." 

"  You  understand,  Sir,"  observed  Mrs.  Le- 
count. "  It  appears  that  Miss  Garth  has  some 
serious  warnin<r  to  give  you.  She  says  you 
are  to  hear  her  for  your  own  sake." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  fair  complexion  sud- 
denly turned  white.  He  put  away  the  plate 
of  strawberries  among  his  father's   bargains. 


NO  NAME. 


lO; 


His  hand  shook,  and  his  little  fiorure  twisted 
itself  uneasily  in    the   chair.     Magdalen   ob- 
served   him    attentively.      "  One    discovery 
already,"  she  thought ;  "  he  is  a  coward  !" 
"What  do  you  mean,  ma'am?"  asked  Mr. 


One  of  the  letters  to  my  father  was  a  threat- 
ening letter — wasn't  it,  Lecouiit  ?" 

"  She  expressed  her  feelings,  poor  child," 
said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "I  thoiight  it  hard  to 
send  her  back  her  letter,  but  vour  dear  lather 


Noel  Vanstoiie,  with  visible  trepidation  of  knew  best.  What  I  said  at'  the  time  was, 
look  and  manner.  '_'  What  do  you  mean  by  Why  not  let  her  express  her  feelings  V  What 
telling  me  I  must  listen  to  yon  for  my  own  are  a  few  threatening  words,  after  all  ?  In  her 
sake?     If  you  come   here  to  intimidate  me,  j  position,  poor  creature,  thev  are  words,  and 


you  come  to  the  wrong  man.     My  strength  of'  nothing  mori-. 


character  was  universally  noticed  in  our  circle 
at  Zurich — wasn't  it,  Lecount  ?" 

"  Universally,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"  But  let  us  hear  Miss  Gartii.  Perhaps  I  have 
misinterpreted  her  meaning?" 

"  On    the    contrary."    replied    Magdalen, 


"  I  advise  you  not  to  be  too  sure  of  that," 
said  Magdalen.  "1  know  her  better  than  vou 
do." 

She  paused  at  those  words  —  paused  in  a 
momenlary  terror.  The  sting  of  ]\Irs.  Le- 
count's  ])ity  had  nearly  irritated  her  into  ibr- 


"you  have   exactly  expressed   my  meaning,  i  getting  her  assumed  character,  and  speakiu!. 
My  object  in  coming    here  is  to  wai-n   Mr.    in  her  own  voice. 

"You  have  referred  to  the  letters  written 
by  my  pupil,"  she  resumed,  addressing  Noel 
Vanstone,  as  soon  as  she  felt  sure  of  hers'df 
again.  "  We  will  say  nothing  about  what  she 
has  written  to  your  father ;  we  will  only  speak 
of  what  she  has  written  to  you.  Is  there  any- 
thing unbecoming  in  her  letter,  anything  said 
in  it  that  is  false.  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  thi'se 
two  sisters  have  been  crnelly  deprived  of  the 
provision  which  their  father  made  for  them? 
His  will  to  this  day  speaks  for  him  and  ibr 
them  ;  and  it  only  speaks  t«  uo  ])urpose  be- 
cause he  was  not  aware  that  his  marriage 
obliged  him  to  make  it  again,  and  because  lie 
died  before  he  could  remedy  the  error.  Can 
you  deny  that  ?" 

]\Ir.  Noel  Vanstone  smiled,  and  helped  him- 
self to  a  strawberry.  "  I  don't  attempt  to 
deny  it,"  he  said.     "  Go  on.  Miss  Garth." 

"  Is  it  not  true,"  persisted  Magdalen,  "that 
the  law  which  has  taken  the  money  from  these 
sisters,  Avhose  father  made  no  second  will,  has 
now  given  that  very  money  to  you,  whose 
father  made  no  will  at  all  ?  Surely,  explain 
it  how  you  may,  this  is  hard  on  those  orphan 
girls  ?" 

"  Very  hard,"  replied  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone. 
"  It  strikes  you  in  that  light  too  —  doesn't  it, 
Lecount  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  shook  her  head,  and  closed 
her  handsome  black  eyes.  "  Harrowing,"  she 
said;  "I  can  characterize  it.  Miss  Garth,  by 
no  other  word  —  harrowing.  How  the  young 
person — no  !  how  Miss  Vanstone  the  younger 
—  discovered  that  my  late  respected  master 
made  no  will  1  am  at  a  loss  to  Understand, 
Perhaps  it  was  put  in  tiie  papers  ?  But  I  am 
interrupting  you,  Aliss  Garth.  You  have 
somethinir  more  to  sny  about  your  j)upirs  let- 
ter ?"  She  noiselessly  drew  her  chair  forward 
as  she  said  those  words  a  few  inches  bevond 
the  line  of  the  visitor's  «hair.  The  attempt 
was  neatly  made,  but  it  proved  useless.  Mag- 
dalen only  kept  her  head  more  to  the  left,  and 
the  packing-case  on  the  floor  prevented  Mrs. 
Lecount  from  advancing  any  farther. 

"I' have  only  one  more  question   to  put," 


Noel  Vanstone  against  the  course  which  he  is 
now  taking." 

"  Don't !"  pleaded  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Oh,  if 
you  want  to  help  these  poor  girls,  don't  talk 
in  that  way  !  Soften  his  resolution,  ma'am, 
by  entreaties;  don't  strengthen  it  by  threats!" 
She  a  little  overstrained  the  tone  of  humility 
in  wiiich  slie  spoke  those  words — a  little  over- 
acted the  look  of  apprehension  which  accom- 
panied them.  If  Magdalen  had  not  seen 
plainly  enough  already  that  it  was  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  habitual  practice  to  decide  everything 
for  her  master  in  the  first  instance,  and  then 
to  persuade  him  that  he  was  not  acting  under 
his  housekeeper's  resolution,  but  under  his 
own.  slie  would  have  seen  it  now. 

"  You  hear  wJiat  Lecount  has  just  said  ?" 
remarked  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  "  You  hear 
the  unsolicited  testimony  of  a  person  who  has 
known  me  from  childhood?  Take  care.  Miss 
Garth  —  take  care  !"  He  complacently  ar- 
ranged the  tails  of  his  white  dressing-gown 
over  iiis  knees,  and  took  the  plate  of  straw- 
berries back  on  his  lap. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  offend  you,"  said  Mag- 
dalen. "  I  am  only  anxious  to  oi)en  yonr  eyes 
to  the  truth.  You  are  not  acquainted  with 
the  characters  of  the  two  sisters  whose  for- 
tunes have  fallen  into  your  possession.  I  have 
known  them  Irom  childhood,  and  I  come  to 
give  you  the  benefit  of  my  experience  in  their 
interests  aiul  in  yours.  You  have  nothing  to 
dread  from  the  elder  of  the  two;  she  patiently 
accepts  the  hard  lot  which  you,  and  your 
father  before  you,  have  forced  on  her.  The 
younger  sister's  conduct  is  the  very  opposite 
of  this.  She  has  already  declined  to  submit 
to  your  father's  decision,  and  she  noAv  refu.ses 
to  be  silenced  by  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  she  is  capable  of  giving  you 
serious  trouble  if  you  persist  in  making  an 
enemy  of  her." 

Mr,  Noel  Vanstone  changed  color  once 
more,  and  began  to  fidget  again  in  his  chair. 
"  Serious  trouble,"  he  repeated,  witli  a  blank 
look.  "  If  you  mean  writing  letters,  ma'am, 
she  has  given  trouble  enougli   already.     She 


hua  written  once  to  me.  aud  twict  to  my  fathur.    tadd  MAj^Julen.     "  My  pupil'.s  letter  addressed 


108 


NO  NAME. 


a  proposal  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  I  beg  him 
to  inform  me  why  he  has  refused  to  consider 
it." 

"  My  good  lady!"  cried  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone, 
arching  his  white  eyebi-ows  in  satirical  aston- 
ishment; "are  you  really  in  earnest?  Do  you 
know  what  the  proposal  is  V  Have  you  seen 
the  letter  ?" 

"I  am  quite  in  earnest,"  said  Magdalen, 
"  and  I  have  seen  the  letter.  It  entreats  you 
to  remember  how  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's  for- 
tune has  come  into  your  hands ;  it  informs 
you  that  one  half  of  that  fortune,  divided  be- 
tween his  daughters,  was  what  his  will  intended 
them  to  have  ;  and  it  asks  of  your  sense  of 
justice  to  do  for  his  children  what  he  would 
have  done  for  them  himself  if  he  had  lived. 
In  plainer  words  still,  it  asks  you  to  give  one- 
half  of  the  money  to  the  daughters,  and  it 
leaves  you  free  to  keep  the  other  half  yourself. 
That  is  the  proposal.  Why  have  you'  refused 
,  to  consider  it  ?" 

"  For  the  simplest  possible  reason.  Miss 
Garth,"  said  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  in  high  good- 
humor.  "  Allow  me  to  remind  you  of  a  "well- 
known  proverb :  A  fool  and  his  money  are 
soon  parted.  Whatever  else  I  maj-  be,  ma'.am, 
I  'm  not  a  fool." 

"Don't  put  it  in  that  way.  Sir!"  remon- 
strated Mrs.  Lecouut.  "  Be  serious — pray  be 
serious  !" 

"  Quite  impossible,  Lecount,"  rejoined  her 
master.  "  I  can't  be  serious.  My  jjoor  father. 
Miss  Garth,  took  a  high  moral  ])oint  of  view 
in  this  matter.  Lecount  there  takes  a  high 
moral  point  of  view — don't  you,  Lecount  ?  I 
do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  have  lived  too  long 
in  the  continental  atmosphere  to  trouble  my- 
self about  moral  points  of  view.  My  course 
in  th-is  business  is  as  plain  as  two  and  two 
make  four.  I  have  got  the  money,  and  I 
should  be  a  born  idiot  if  I  parted  with  it. 
There  is  my  point  of  view  !  Simple  enough, 
isn't  it  ?  I  don't  stand  on  my  dignity  ;  I  don't 
meet  you  with  the  law,  wJiich  is  all  on  my 
side ;  I  don't  blame  your  coming  here  as  a 
total  stranger  to  try  and  alter  my  resolution  ; 
I  den'r  blame  the  two  girls  for  wanting  to  di]) 
their  fingers  into  my  purse.  All  I  say  is,  I 
am  not  fool  enough  to  open  it.  Pas  si  hele,  as 
we  used  to  say  in  the  English  circle  at  Zurich. 
You  understand  French,  Miss  Garth  ?  Pas 
si  hele .'"  He  set  aside  his  plate  of  strawber- 
ries once  more,  and  daintily  dried  his  lingers 
on  his  fine  white  napkin. 

Magdalen  kept  her  temper.  If  she  could 
have  struck  him  dead  by  lifting  her  hand  at 
that  moment  it  is  probable  she  would  Kave 
lifted  it.     But  she  kept  her  temper. 

"  Am  I  to  understand,"  she  asked,  "  that 
the  last  words  you  have  to  say  in  this  matter 
are  the  words  said  for  you  in  Mrs.  Lecount's 
letter  ?" 

"  Precisely  so,"  replied  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone. 

"  You  have  inherited  your  own  father's  for- 
tun«  as  well  as  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Andrew 


Vanstone,  and  yet  you  feel  no  obligation  to 
act  from  motives  of  justice  or  generosity  to- 
ward these  two  sisters  ?  All  you  think  it 
necessary  to  say  to  them  is  — you  have  got 
the  money,  and  you  refuse  to  part  with,  a 
single  farthing  of  it  ?" 

"  ^Most  accurately  stated  !  Miss  Garth,  you 
are  a  woman  of  business.  Lecount,  Miss 
Garth  is  a  woman  of  business." 

"Don't  appeal  to  me.  Sir!"  cried  Mrs.  Le- 
count, gracefully  wringing  her  plump  white 
hands.  "  I  can't  bear  it !  I  nuist  interfere  ! 
Let  me  suggest  —  oh,  what  do  you  call  it  in 
English  ?  a  compromise.  Dear  Mr.  Noel,  you 
are  ])erversely  refusing  to  do  yourself  justice ; 
you  have  better  reasons  than  the  reason  you 
have  given  to  Miss  Garth.  You  follow  your 
honori;d  father's  example  ;  you  feel  it  due  to 
his  memory  to  act  in  this  matter  as  he  acted 
before  you.  That  is  his  leason,  IMiss  Garth — 
I  implore  you  on  my  knees,  take  that  as  his 
reason.  He  will  do  what  his  dear  father  did; 
no  more,  no  less.  His  dear  father  made  a 
proposal,  and  he  himself  will  now  make  that 
proposal  over  again.  Yes,  Mr.  Noel,  you  will 
remember  what  this  poor  girl  says  in  her  let- 
ter to  you.  Her  sister  has  been  obliged  to  go 
out  as  a  governess;  and  she  herself,  in  losing 
her  fortune,  has  lost  the  hope  of  her  marriage 
for  years  and  3'ears  to  come.  You  will  re- 
member this — and  you  will  give  the  hundred 
pounds  to  one,  and  the  hundred  pounds  to  the 
other,  which  your  admirable  lather  oflTered  in 
tiie  past  time  V  If  he  does  this,  Miss  Garth, 
will  he  do  enough  ?  If  he  gives  a  hundred 
])Ounds  each  to  these  unfortunate  sisters  —  ?" 

"  He  will  repent  the  insult  to  the  last  hour 
of  his  life,''  said  Magdalen. 

The  instant  that  answer  passed  her  lips  she 
would  have  given  worlds  to  recall  it.  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  })lanted  her  sting  in  the  right 
place  at  last.  Those  rash  words  of  Magda- 
len's had  burst  from  her  passionately,  in  her 
own  voii'c. 

Nothing  but  the  habit  of  public  perform- 
ance saved  her  from  making  the  serious  error 
that  she  had  committed  more  palpable  still 
by  attempting  to  set  it  right.  Here  her  past 
practice  in  the  Entei'tainment  came  to  her 
rescue,  and  urged  her  to  go  on  instantly,  in 
Miss  Garth's  voice,  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

"  You  mean  well,  Mrs.  Lecount,"  she  con- 
tinued, '•  but  you  are  doing  harm  instead  of 
good.  ]\Iy  pupils  will  accept  no  such  com- 
pronu'se  as  you  propose.  I  am  sorry  to  have 
spoken  violently  just  now  ;  I  beg  you  will 
excuse  me."  She  looked  hard  for  information 
in  the  housekeepers  face  while  she  spoke 
those  conciliatory  words.  Mrs.  Lecount  baf- 
fled the  look  by  putting  her  handkerchief  to 
her  eyes.  Had  she,  or  had  she  not,  noticed 
the  momentary  change  in  Magdalen's  voice 
from  the  tones  that  were  assumed  to  the  tonet 
that  were  natural  ?     Impossible  to  say. 

"  What  more  can  I  do !"  murmured  Mrs. 


NO  NAME. 


109 


Leoount,  beliind  her  handkerchief.  "  Give 
me  time  to  think  —  give  me  lime  to  recover 
myself.  JNIay  I  retire,  Sir,  for  a  moment? 
My  nerves  are  sliaken  by  this  sad  scene.  I 
must  have  a  glass  of  water,  or  I  think  I  shall 
faint.  Don't  go  yet,  Miss  Garth.  1  beg  you 
•will  "-ive  us  time  to  set  this  sad  matter  right, 
if  we  can  ;  I  beg  you  will  remain  until  I  come 
back." 

There  were  two  doors  of  entrance  to  the 
room.  One,  the  door  into  the  front  parlor, 
close  at  Magdalen's  hand.  The  other,  the  j 
door  into  the  back  jjarlor,  situated  behind  j 
lier.  Mrs.  Lecount  politely  retired,  through 
the  open  foliling-doors,  by  this  latter  means 
of  exit,  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  visitor  by 
passing  in  front  of  her.  Magdalen  waiteii 
until  siie  heard  the  door  open  and  close  again 
behind  her,  and  then  resolved  to  make  the 
most  of  the  opportunity  which  left  her  alone 
with  Noel  Vanstone.  The  utter  hopelessness 
of  rousing  a  generous  impulse  in  that  base 
nature  had  now  lieen  j)roved  by  her  own 
experience.  The  last  chance  left  was  to  treat 
him  like  the  cravt  n  creature  he  was,  and  to 
influence  him  thi'ough  his  fears. 

Before  she  could  speak  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
himself  broke  the  silence.  Cunningly  as  he 
strove  to  hide  it,  he  was  half  angry,  half 
alarmed  at  his  housekeeper's  desertion  of  him. 
He  looked  doubtingly  at  his  visitor;  he  showed 
a  nervous  anxiety  to  conciliate  her  until  Mrs. 
Lecount's  return. 

"  Pray  remember,  ma'am,  I  never  denied 
that  tliis  case  was  a  hard  one,"  he  began. 
"  You  said  just  now  you  had  no  wish  to  offend 
me,  and  I  'm  sure  I  don,t  want  to  offend  you. 
May  I  offer  you  some  strawlx'rries  V  Would 
you  like  to  look  at  my  father's  bargains  ?  I 
assure  you,  ma'am  I  am  naturally  a  gallant 
man  ;  and  I  feel  for  botii  tlirse  sisters  —  espe- 
cially the  younger  one.  Touch  me  on  the 
subject  of  the  tender  passion  and  you  touch 
me  on  a  weak  place.  Nothing  would  please 
me  more  than  to  hear  that  ]\Iiss  Vanstone's 
lover — (I  'm  sure  I  always  call  her  Miss  Van- 
stone, and  so  does  Lecount) — I  say,  ma'am, 
nothing  would  please  me  more  than  to  hear 
that  ^liss  Vanstone'?  lover  had  come  back 
and  married  her.  If  a  loan  of  money  would 
be  likely  to  bring  him  liack,  and  if  the  se- 
curity ofli'ered  was  good,  and  if  my  lawyer 
thought  me  justified — " 

"  Stop,  Mv.  Vanstone,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  You  are  entirely  mistaken  in  your  estimate 
of  the  person  you  have  to  deal  with.  You 
are  seriously  wrong  in  supposing  that  the 
marriage  of  the  younger  sister  —  if  she  could 
be  married  in  a  week's  time  —  would  make 
any  difl"erence  in  the  convictions  which  in- 
duced her  to  write  to  your  father  and  to  you. 
I  don't  deny  that  she  may  act  from  a  mixture 
of  motives.  I  don't  deny  that  she  clings  to 
the  hope  of  hastening  her  marriage,  and  to 
the  hone  of  rescuing  her  sister  from  a  life  of 
d«penueuce.     But  if  both  those  objects  were 


accomplished  by  other  means,  nothinjr  would 
induce  her  to  leave  you  in  posset^sion  of  the 
inheritance  which  her  father  meant  his  chil- 
dren to  have.  1  know  her,  Mr.  Vanstone ! 
She  is  a  nameless,  homeless,  friendless  wretch. 
The  law  which  takes  care  of  you,  the  law 
which  takes  care  of  all  legitimate  children, 
casts  her  like  carrion  to  the  winds.  It  is  your 
law  —  not  hers.  She  only  knows  it  as  the 
instrument  of  a  vile  oppression,  an  insuffer- 
able wrong.  The  sense  of  that  wrong  haimts 
her  like  a  possession  of  the  devil.  The  reso- 
lution to  right  that  wrong  burns  in  her  like 
tire.  If  that  miserable  girl  was  married  and 
rich  with  millions  to-morrow,  do  you  think 
she  would  move  an  inch  from  her  purpose? 
I  tell  you  she  would  resist,  to  the  last  breath  in 
her  body,  the  vile  injustice  which  has  struck 
at  the  lieljiless  children  through  the  calamity 
of  their  father's  death  !  I  tell  yon  she  would 
shrink  from  no  means  which  a  desperate 
woman  can  employ  to  force  that  closed  hand 
of  yours  open,  or  die  in  the  attempt !" 

She  stopped  abrujjtly.  Once  more  her  in- 
domitable earnestness  had  betrayed  her.  Once 
more  the  natural  ability  of  that  perverted  na- 
ture had  risen  su])erior  to  the  deception  which 
it  had  stooped  to  practk-e.  The  sciicme  of  the 
moment  vanished  I'roui  her'  mind's  view,  and 
the  resolution  of  her  life  burst  its  way  out- 
ward in  her  own  words,  in  her  own  tones, 
pouring  hotly  anil  more  hotly  from  her  heart. 
She  saw  the  abject  manikin  before  her  cower- 
ing silent  in  his  chair.  Had  his  fears  left  him 
sense  enough  to  perceive  the  change  in  her 
voice?  No:  his  face  spoke  the  truth  —  his 
fears  had  bewildered  him.  This  time  the 
chance  of  the  moment  had  befriended  her. 
The  door  behind  her  chair  had  not  opened 
asrain  yet.  "  No  ears  but  his  have  heard 
me,"  she  thought,  with  a  sense  of  unutterable 
relief.     "I  have  escaped  Mrs.  Lecount." 

She  had  done  nothing  of  the  kind.  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  never  left  the  room. 

After  opening  the  door  and  closing  it  again, 
without  going  out,  the  housekeeper  had  noise- 
lessly knelt  down  behind  Magdalen's  chair. 
Steadying  herself  against  the  post  of  the  fold- 
ing-door, she  took  a  pair  of  .scissors  from  her 
pocket,  waited  until  Noel  Vanstone  (from 
whose  view  she  was  entiraly  hidden)  had 
attracted  j\Iagdalen's  attention  by  sijcaking 
to  her,  and  then  bent  forward  with  the  scis- 
sors readv  in  her  hand.  The  skirt  of  the  false 
Miss  Garth's  gown  —  the  brown  alpaca  dress 
with  the  white  spots  on  it  —  touched  the  floor 
^  within  the  housekeeper's  reach.  Mrs.  Le- 
■  count  lifted  the  outer  of  the  two  flounces 
'  which  ran  arounil  the  bottom  of  the  dress,  one 
j  over  the  other,  softly  cut  away  a  little  irregu- 
;  lar  fragment  of  this  stufl^  from  the  inner 
!  flounce,  and  neatly  smoothed  the  outer  one 
I  over  it  again,  so  as  to  hide  the  gap.  By  the 
I  time  she  had  put  the  scissors  back  in  her 
!  pocket  and  had  risen  to  her  feet  (sheltering 
herself   behind   tba  post  of  the   folding-door) 


# 


119 


NO  NAME. 


Magdalen  had  spoken  her  last  words.  Mrs. 
Lecount  quietl}'  repeated  the  ceremony  of 
opening  and  shutting  the  back  parlor  door, 
and  glided  back  to  her  place. 

"  What  has  happened,  Sir,  in  my  absence  ?" 
she  inquired,  addressing  her  master  with  a 
look  of  alarm.  "  You  are  pale  ;  you  are  agi- 
tated! Ob,  Miss  Garth,  have  you  forgotten 
the  caution  I  gave  you  in  the  other  room  V" 

"  Miss  Garth  has  forgotten  everything," 
cried  Mr.  Nc.-l  Vanstone,  recovering  his  lost 
composure  on  the  reappearance  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count. "Miss  Garth  has  threatened  me  in 
the  most  outrageous  manner.  I  ibrbid  you 
to  pity  either  ot'  those  two  girls  anj'  more, 
Lecount — espi'cially  the  younger  one.  She  is 
the  ^nost  desperate  wretch  1  ever  heard  of! 
If  she  can't  get  my  money  by  f;iir  means,  she 
threatens  to  have  it  by  foul.  jMiss  Garth  has 
told  me  that  to  my  face.  To  my  face  ! '  he 
repeated,  folding  his  arms  and  looking  mor- 
tally insulted. 

'•  Compose  yourself,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Le- 
count ;  "  pray  compose  yourself,  and  leave  me 
to  speak  to  Aliss  Garth.  I  i-egnt  to  hear, 
ma'am,  that  you  have  forgotten  what  I  said 
to  you  in  the  next  room.  You  have  cigitated 
Mr.  Noel ;  you  have  compromised  the  inter- 
ests you  came  here  to  plead ;  and  you  have 
only  repeated  what  we  knew  before.  The 
language  }ou  have  allowed  you)'self  to  use 
in  my  absence  is  the  same  language  which 
your  pupil  was  foolisli  enougii  to  employ  when 
ehe  wrote  for  the  second  time  to  my  late 
master.  How  can  a  lady  of  your  years  and 
experience  seriously  repeat  such  nonsense  ? 
This  girl  boasts  and  threatens.  She  will  do 
this ;  she  will  do  that.  You  have  her  con- 
fidence, ma'am.  Tell  me,  if  you  please,  in 
plain  words,  what  can  she  do  ?" 

Sharply  as  the  taunt  was  pointed,  it  glanced 
off  harmless.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  planted  her 
sting  once  too  often.  Magdalen  rose,  in  com- 
plete possession  of  her  assumed  character,  and 
composedly  terminated  the  interview.  Igno- 
rant as  she  was  of  what  had  happened  behind 
her  chair,  she  saw  a  change  in  Mrs.  Lecount's 
look  and  manner  which  warned  her  to  run  no 
more  rislcs,  and  to  trust  herself  no  longer  in 
the  house. 

"  I  am  not  in  my  pupil's  confidence,"  she 
said.  "  Her  own  acts  will  answer  your  ques- 
tion when  the  time  comes.  I  can  only  tell  you, 
from  my  own  knowledge  of  her,  that  she 
is  no  boaster.  What  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Michael 
Vanstone  was  what  she  was  prepared  to  do — 
what,  I  have  reason  to  think,  she  was  actually 
on  the  point  of  doing,  when  her  plans  were 
overthrown  by  his  death.  Mi-.  Mi(;hael  Van- 
stone's  son  has  only  to  persist  in  following  his 
father's  course  to  find  before  long  that  I  am 
not  mistaken  in  my  pupil,  and  that  I  have  not 
come  here  to  intimidate  him  by  empty, threats. 
My  errand  is  done.  I  leave  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone with  two  alternatives  to  choose  from.  I 
leave   him  to  share  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's 


fortune  with  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's  daugh- 
ters—  or,  to  persist  in  his  present  refusal  and 
face  the  conse(juenees."  She  bowed,  and 
walked  to  the  door. 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  started  to  his  feet,  with 
anger  and  alarm  strugijling  which  should  ex- 
press itself  first  in  his  blank  white  face.  Before 
he  could  open  his  lips  Mrs.  Lecount's  plump 
hands  descended  on  his  shoulders,  ])ut  him 
softly  back  in  his  chair,  and  restored  the  plate 
of  strawberries  to  its  former  position  on  his 
lap. 

"  Refresh  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,  with  a  few 
more  strawberries,"  she  said,  "  and  leave  Miss 
Garth  to  me." 

Sh(;  followed  Magdalen  into  the  passage, 
and  closed  the  door  of  the  room  after  her. 

"  Are  you  residing  in  London,  ma'am  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Lecount. 

" No,'  replied  Magdalen.  " I  reside  in  the 
country." 

"  If  I  want  to  write  to  you,  where  can  I  ad- 
dress my  letter  ?" 

"  To  the  post-office,  Birmingham,"  said  Mag" 
dalen,  mentioning  the  place  which  she  had  last 
left,  and  at  which  all  letters  were  still  address- 
ed to  her. 

Mrs.  Lecount  repeated  the  direction  to  fix 
it  in  her  memory,  advanced  two  steps  in  the 
passage,  and  quietly  laid  her  right  hand  on 
Magdalen's  arm. 

"  A  word  of  advice,  ma'am,"  she  said ;  "one 
word  at  parting.  You  are  a  bold  woman  and 
a  clever  woman.  Don't  be  too  bold ;  don't  be 
too  clever.  You  are  risking  more  than  you 
tliink  for."  She  suddenly  raised  herself  on 
tip-toe  and  whispered  the  next  words  in  Mag- 
dalen's ear.  "  /  hold  you  in  the  hollow  of  my 
hand !"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  a  fierce,  hiss- 
ing emphasis  on  every  syllable.  Her  left  hand 
clenched  itself  stealthily  as  she  spoke.  It  was 
the  hand  in  which  she  had  concealed  the  frag- 
ment of  stuff  from  Magdalen's  gowp  —  the 
hand  which  held  it  fast  at  that  moment. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Magdalen, 
pushing  her  back. 

Mrs.  Lecount  glided  away  politely  to  open 
the  house-door. 

"  I  mean  nothing  now,"  she  said  ;  "  wait  a 
little,  and  time  may  show.  One  last  question, 
ma'am,  before  I  bid  you  good-by.  When  your 
pupil  was  a  little  innocent  child,  did  she  ever 
amuse  herself  by  building  a  house  of  cards?" 

Magdalen  impatiently  answered  by  a  ges- 
ture in  the  affirmative. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  her  build  up  the  house 
higher  and  higher,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount, 
"  till  it  was  quite  a  pagoda  of  cards?  Did  you 
ever  see  her  open  her  little  child's  eyes  wide 
and  look  at  it,  and  feel  so  proud  of  what  she 
had  done  already  that  she  wanted  to  do  more  ? 
Did  you  ever  see  her  steady  her  pretty  little 
hand,  and  hold  her  innocent  breath,  and  put 
one  other  card  on  the  top — and  lay  the  whole 
house,  the  instant  afterward,  a  heap  of  ruins 
on  the  table  ?    Ah,  you  have  seen  that !    Give 


^?^;^ 


laite 


NO  NAME. 


Ill 


her,  if  you  please,  a  friendly  message  from  me. 
I  venture  to  say  she  has  built  the  house  high 
enough  already,  and  I  recommend  her  to  be 
careful  before  she  puts  on  that  other  card." 

"  She  shall  have  your  message,"  said  Mag- 
dalen, with  Miss  Garth's  bluntness  and  Miss 
(Earth's  emphatic  nod  of  the  head.  "  But  I 
doubt  her  minding  it.  Her  hand  is  rather 
steadier  than  you  suppose ;  and  I  think  she 
will  put  on  the  other  card." 

"  And  bring  the  house  down,"  said  Mrs. 
Lecount. 

"  And  build  it  up  again,"  rejoined  Magda- 
len.    "  I  wish  you  good-morning." 

"  Good-morning,"  said  INIrs.  Lecount,  open- 
ing the  door.  "  One  last  word,  Mis.<?  Garth. 
Do  tliink  of  what  I  said  in  the  back  room  ! 
Do  trv  the  Golden  Ointment  for  that  sad  af- 
fliction in  your  eyes !" 

As  ]\Iagdalen  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
door  she  was  met  by  the  postman  ascending 
the  house-stejjs  with  a  letter  picked  out  from 
the  bundle  in  his  hand.  "  Noel  Vanstone, 
Esquire  ?"  she  heard  the  man  say  interroga- 
tively, as  she  made  hor  way  down  the  front 
garden  to  the  street. 

She  passed  through  the  garden-gate  little 
thinking  from  what  new  dilHoulty  and  new 
dancer  Iter  timely  departure  had  saved  her. 
The  letter  wliich  the  postman  had  just  deliv- 
ered into  the  housekeeper's  hands  was  no  other 
than  the  anonymous  letter  addressed  to  Noel 
Vanslone  by  Captain  Wragge. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mrs.  Lecount  returned  to  the  parlor  with 
the  fragment  of  Magdalen's  dress  in  one  hand, 
and  with  Captain  Wragge's  letter  in  the  other. 

"  Have  you  got  rid  of  her  V"  asked  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone.  "  Have  you  shut  the  door  at 
last  on  Miss  Garth  ?" 

"Don't  call  ker  Miss  Garth,  Sir," said  Mrs. 
Lecount.  smiling  contemptuously.  "  She  is  as 
much  Miss  (iarth  as  you  are.  AVe  have  been 
favored  by  the  performance  of  a  clever  mas- 
querade ;  and  if  we  had  taken  the  disguise  off 
our  vi.sitor  I  think  we  should  have  found  under 
it  Mi.ss  Vanstone  herself.  Here  is  a  letter 
for  you,  Sir,  which  the  postman  has  just  left." 

She  put  tlia  letter  on  the  table,  within  her 
master's  rcAch.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  amaze- 
ment at  the  discovery  just  communicated  to 
him  kept  his  whole  attention  concentrated  on 
the  hou>ekeeper's  face.  He  never  so  much  as 
looked  at  the  letter  when  she  placed  it  before 
him. 

"  Take  my  word  for  it.  Sir,"  proceeded  Mrs. 
Lecount,  composedly  taking  a  chair.  "  When 
our  visitor  gets  home  she  will  put  her  gray  hair 
away  in  a  box,  and  will  cure  that  sad  aflliction 
in  her  eyes  with  warm  wafer  and  a  sponge. 
If  she  had  painted  the  marks  on  her  face  as 
well  as  she  painted  the  infianimation  in  her 


eyes,  the  hght  would  have  shown  me  nothing, 
and  I  should  certainly  have  been  deceived. 
But  I  saw  the  marks ;  I  saw  a  young  woman's 
skin  under  that  dirty  complexion  of  hers ;  I 
heard,  in  this  room,  a  true  voice  in  a  passion, 
as  well  as  a  false  voice  talking  with  an  accent — 
and  I  don't  believe  in  one  morsel  of  that  lady's 
personal  .ippcarance,  from  top  to  toe.  The 
girl  herself,  in  my  opinion,  ]Mr.  Noel  —  and  a 
bold  girl  too." 

"  Why  didn't  you  lock  the  door  and  send  for 
the  pohce  V"  asked  Mr.  Noel.  "  My  father 
would  have  sent  for  the  police.  You  know, 
as  well  as  I  do,  Lecount,  my  father  would  have 
sent  for  tiie  police." 

"Pardon  me.  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount;  "I 
think  your  father  would  have  waited  until  he 
had  got  t^nmething  more  for  the  police  to  do 
than  we  have  got  for  them  yet.  We  shall  sec 
this  lady  again.  Sir.  Perha])S  she  will  come 
here  next  time  with  her  own  face  and  her  own 
voice.  I  am  curious  to  see  what  her  own  face 
is  like;  I  am  curious  to  know  whether  what  I 
have  heard  of  her  voice  in  a  pa.ssion  is  enough 
to  make  me  recognize  her  voice  when  she  is 
calm.  I  possess  a  little  memorial  of  her  visit 
of  which  she  is  not  aware,  and  she  will  not 
escape  mr'  so  easily  as  she  thinks.  If  it  turns 
out  a  usefid  memorial,  you  shall  know  what  it 
is.  If  not,  I  will  abstain  from  troulning  you 
on  so  trifling  a  subject.  Allow  me  to  remind 
you.  Sir,  of  the  letter  under  your  hand.  You 
have  not  looked  at  it  yet." 

Air.  Noel  Vanstone  opened  the  letter.  He 
started  as  his  eye  fell  on  the  first  lines  —  hesi- 
tated—  nnd  tlien  hurriedly  reail  it  through. 
The  paper  dropped  from  his  hand,  and  he  sank 
back  in  his  chair.  Airs.  Lecount  sprang  to  her 
feet  with  the  alacrity  of  a  young  woman  and 
picked  up  the  letter. 

"  What  has  happened.  Sir  ?"  she  asked. 
Her  face  altered  as  she  put  the  question,  and 
her  large  black  eyes  hardened  fiercely  in  gen- 
uine astonishment  and  alarm. 

"  Send  for  the  police  I '  exclaimed  her  mas- 
ter. "Lecount,  I  insist  on  being  protected. 
Send  for  the  police  !" 

"May  I  read  the  letter.  Sir?" 

He  feebly  waved  his  hand.  i\Irs.  Lecount 
read  the  letter  attentively,  and  put  it  aside  on 
the  table  without  a  word  when  she  had  done. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me'/"  asked 
M]-.  Noel  Vanstone.  staring  at  his  housekeeper 
in  blank  dismay.  "  Lecount,  I  'm  to  he  rolibed ! 
The  scoundrel  who  wrote  that  letter  knows  all 
about  it,  and  won't  tell  me  anything  unless  I 
pav  him.  I  'm  to  he  robbed  I  Here  's  property 
on  this  table  worth  thou.sands  of  pounds — prop- 
erty that  can  never  be  replaced — property  that 
all  the  crowned  heads  in  Europe  could  not 
produce  if  they  tried.  Lock  me  in,  Lecount, 
and  send  for  the  police  I" 

Instead  of  sending  for  the  police  Mrs.  Le- 
count took  a  large  green-paper  fan  from  the 
chiifiney-piece  and  seated  herself  opposite  her 
mast«r. 


112 


NO  NAJ^IE. 


"You  are  apitated,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said; 
"  you  are  heated.     Let  me  cool  J'ou." 

With  her  face  as  hard  as  ever — with  less  ten- 
deruess  of  look  and  manner  than  most  women 
would  have  shown  if  they  had  been  rescuing  a 
halfdi'cwned  fly  from  a  milk-jufj — she  silently 
and  patiently  fanned  him  for  five  minutes  or 
more.  No  practiced  eye  observing  the  peculiar 
bluish  pallor  of  his  complexion,  and  the  marked 
difficulty  Avith  which  he  drew  his  breath,  could 
have  failed  to  perceive  that  the  great  organ  of 
life  wa^  in  this  man,  wliat  the  housekeeper  had 
stated  it  to  be,  too  weak  for  the  function  which 
it  was  called  on  to  perform.  The  heart  labored 
over  its  work  as  if  it  had  been  the  heart  of  a 
worn-out  old  man. 

"  Are  you  relieved.  Sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Le- 
count.  "  Can  you  think  a  little  ?  Can  you 
exercise  your  better  judgment  ?" 

She  rose,  and  put  her  liand  over  his  heart 
with  as  much  mechanical  attention  and  as 
little  genuine  interest  as  if  she  had  been  feel- 
ing the  plates  at  dinner  to  ascertain  if  they 
were  properly  warmed.  "  Yes,"  she  went  on, 
seating  herself  again,  and  resuming  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  fan;  "you  are  getting  better 
already,  Mr.  Noel.  Don't  ask  me  about  this 
anonymous  letter  until  you  have  thought  for 
yourself,  and  have  given  your  own  opinion 
first."  She  went  on  with  the  fanning,  and 
looked  him  hard  in  the  face  all  the  time. 
''  Think,"  she  said ;  "  think,  Sir,  without 
troubling  yourself  to  expiess  your  thoughts. 
Trust  to  my  intimate  symjiathy  with  you  to 
read  them.  Yes,  Mr.  Noel,  this  letter  is  a 
paltry  attempt  to  frighten  you.  What  does 
it  say  ?  It  says  you  are  the  object  of  a  con- 
spiracy, directed  by  Miss  Vanstone.  We  know 
that  already  —  the  lady  of  the  inflamed  eyes 
has  told  us.  We  snap  our  fingers  at  the  con- 
spiracy. What  does  the  letter  say  next  ?  It 
says  the  writer  has  valuable  information  to 
give  you,  if  you  will  pay  for  it.  AVhat  did 
you  call  this  person  yourself  just  now.  Sir  V" 

"  I  called  him  a  scoundrel,"  said  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone,  recovering  his  self-importance,  and 
raising  himself  gradually  in  liis  chair. 

"  I  agree  with  you  in  that.  Sir,  as  I  agree 
in  everything  else,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"  He  is  a  scoundrel  who  really  has  this  infor- 
matioii,  and  who  means  what  he  says;  or  he 
is  a  mouth-piece  of  ISliss  Vanstone's,  and  she 
has  caused  this  letCfcr  to  be  written  I'ur  the 
purpose  of  puzzling  us  by  another  form  of 
disguise.  Whether  the  letter  is  true,  or 
whether  the  letter  is  false  —  am  I  not  reading 
your  own  wiser  thoughts  now,  Mr.  Noel? — 
you  know  better  than  to  put  your  enemies  on 
their  guard  by  employing  the  police  in  this 
matter  too  soon.  I  quite  agree  with  you — no 
police  just  yet.  You  will  allow  this  anony- 
mous man  or  anonymous  woman  to  suppose 
you  are  easily  frightened ;  you  will  lay  a  trap 
for  the  information  in  return  for  the  trap  laid 
for  your  money;  you  will  answer  the  letter, 
and  see  what  comes  of  the  answer ;  and  you 


will  only  pay  the  expense  of  employing  the 
police  when  you  know  the  expense  is  neces- 
sary. I  agree  with  you  again — no  expense,  if 
we  can  help  it.  In  every  particular,  Mr. 
Noel,  my  mind  and  your  mind  in  this  matter 
are  one." 

"It  strikes  you  in  that  light,  Lecount — does 
it?"  said  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  "I  think  so 
myself,  I  certainly  think  so.  I  won't  pay  the 
police  a  farthing,  if  I  can  possibly  help  it." 
He  took  up  the  letter  again,  and  became  fret- 
full)'  perplexed  over  a  second  reading  of  it. 
"  But  the  man  wants  money  !  "  he  broke  out, 
impatiently.  "  You  seem  to  forget,  Lecount, 
that  the  man  wants  money." 

"  Money  which  you  offer  him.  Sir,"  rejoined 
Mrs.  Lecount;  "but  —  as  your  thoughts  have 
already  anticipated  —  money  Avhich  you  don't 
give  him.  No !  no !  you  say  to  this  man, 
'  Hold  out  your  hand.  Sir; '  and  when  he  has 
held  it,  you  give  him  a  smack  for  his  pains, 
and  put  your  own  hand  back  in  your  pocket. 
I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  laughing,  Mr.  Noel ; 
so  glad  to  see  you  getting  back  your  good 
spirits.  We  will  answer  the  letter  by  adver- 
tisement, as  the  writer  directs — advertisement 
is  so  cheap !  Your  poor  hand  is  trembling  a 
little  —  shall  I  hold  the  pen  for  you  V  I  am 
not  fit  to  do  more,  but  I  can  always  promise  to 
hold  the  pen." 

Without  waiting  for  his  reply  she  went  into 
the  back  parlor  and  returned  with  pen,  ink, 
and  paper.  Arranging  a  blotting-book  on  her 
knees,  and  looking  a  model  of  cheerful  submis- 
sion, she  placed  herself  once  more  in  front  of 
her  master's  chair. 

"  Shall  I  write  from  your  dictation.  Sir?"  she 
inquired.  "  Or  shall  I  make  a  little  sketch, 
and  will  you  correct  it  afterward  ?  I  will 
make  a  little  sketch.  Let  me  see  the  letter. 
We  are  to  advertise  in  the  Times,  and  we  are 
to  address  'An  Unknown  Friend.'  What 
shall  I  say,  Mr.  Noel  ?  Stay  ;  I  will  write  it, 
and  then  you  can  see  for  yourself:  'An  Un- 
known Friend  is  requested  to  mention  (by 
advertisement)  an  address  at  which  a  letter 
can  reach  him.  The  receipt  of  the  informa- 
tion which  he  offers  will  be  acknowledged  by 
a  reward  of — '  What  sum  of  money  do  you 
wish  me  to  set  down.  Sir  ?  " 

"  Set  down  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone, with  a  sudden  outbreak  of  impatience. 
"  Money-matters  are  my  business — I  say  mon- 
ey-matters are  7ny  business,  Lecount.  Leave 
it  to  me." 

"  Certainly,  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount, 
handing  her  master  the  blotting-book.  "  You 
will  not  forget  to  be  liberal  in  offering  money 
when  you  know  beforehand  you  don't  mean  to 
part  with  it  ?  " 

'  Don't  dictate,  Lecount !  I  won't  submit  to 
dictation  !  "  said  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  assertr 
ing  his  own  independence  more  and  more  im- 
patiently. "  I  mean  to  conduct  this  business 
for  myself.     I  am  master,  Lecount!" 

"  You  are  master.  Sir ! " 


NO  NAME. 


lis 


"  My  fivther  was  master  before  me.  And  I 
am  my  father's  son.  I  tell  yon,  Lecount,  I  am 
my  father's  son  ! " 

Mrs.  Lecount  bowed  submissively. 

"  T  mean  to  set  down  any  sum  of  money  I 
think  right,"  pursued  Mr.  Noel  Vanstonc, 
noddin"-"his  little  flaxen  head  vehemently. 
*'  I  mean  to  send  this  advertisement  myself 
The  servant  shall  take  it  to  the  stationer's  to 
be  put  into  the  Times.  When  I  ring  the  bell 
twice  send  the  servant.  You  understand,  Le- 
count ?     Send  the  servant." 

Mrs.  Lecount  bowed  again,  and  walked 
slowly  to  the  door.  She  knew  to  a  nicety 
when  to  lead  her  master,  and  when  to  let  him 
go  alone.  Experience  had  taught  her  to  gov- 
ern him  in  all  essential  points  by  giving  way 
to  him  afterward  on  all  points  of  minor  detail. 
It  was  a  characteristic  of  his  weak  nature — as 
it  is  of  all  weak  natures — to  assert  itself  obsti- 
nately on  trifles.  The  filling  in  of  the  blank 
in  the  advertisement  was  the  trifle  in  this 
ease ;  and  Mrs.  Lecount  quieted  her  master's 
suspicions  that  she  was  leading  him  by  in- 
stantly conceding  it.  "  My  mule  has  kicked," 
she  thought  to  herself,  in  her  own  language, 
as  she  opened  the  door.  "  I  can  do  no  more 
with  him  to-day." 

"Lecount!"  cried  her  master,  as  she  step- 
ped into  the  passage  ;  "  come  back." 

Mrs.  Lecount  came  back. 

"  You  're  not  off'ended  with  me,  are  you  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Noel  Yanstone,  uneasily. 

"  Certainly  not.  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"As  you  said  just  now,  you  are  master." 

•'  Good  creature  !  Give  me  your  hand." 
lie  kissed  her  hand,  and  smiled  in  high  ap- 
proval of  his  own  aflt'ctionate  proceeding. 
"  Lecount,  you  are  a  worthy  creature  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  She 
courtcsied  and  went  out.  "  If  he  had  any 
brains  in  that  monkey-head  of  his,"  she  said 
to  herself  in  the  passage,  "  what  a  rascal  he 
would  be !  " 

Left  by  himself,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  became 
absorbed  in  anxious  reflection  over  the  blank 
space  in  the  advertisement.  Mrs.  Lecount's 
apparently  superfluous  hint  to  him,  to  be  lib- 
eral in  offering  money  when  he  knew  he  had 
no  intention  of  parting  with  it,  had  been 
founded  on  an  intimate  knowledge  of  his  char- 
acter. He  had  inherited  his  father's  sordid 
love  of  money  witliout  inheriting  his  father's 
hard-headed  capacity  for  seeing  the  uses  to 
which  money  can  be  put.  His  one  idea  in 
connection  with  his  wealth  was  the  idea  of 
keeping  it.  He  was  such  an  inborn  miser 
that  the  bare  prospect  of  being  liberal,  in 
theory  only,  daunted  him.  lie  took  up  the 
pen,  laid  it  down  again,  and  read  the  anony- 
mous letter  for  the  third  time,  shaking  his 
head  over  it  suspiciously.  "  If  I  offer  this 
man  a  large  sum  of  money,"'  he  thought,  on  a 
sudden,  "  how  do  I  know  he  may  not  find  a 
means  of  making  me  actually  pay  it  ?  Wo- 
men are  always  in  a  hurry.  Lecount  is  al- 
15 


ways  in  a  hurry.  I  have  got  the  afternooa 
before  me — I  '11  take'the  afternoon  to  consider 
it." 

He  fretfully  put  away  the  blotting-book  and 
the  sketch  of  the  advertisement  on  the  chair 
which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  just  left.  As  he  re- 
turned to  his  own  seat  he  shook  his  little  head 
solemnly,  and  arranged  his  white  dressing- 
gown  over  his  knees,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
absorbed  in  anxious  thought.  Minute  after 
minute  passed  away;  the  quarters  and  the 
half  hours  succeeded  each  other  on  the  dial 
of  ]Mrs.  Lecount's  watch,  and  still  Mr.  Noel 
Yanstone  remained  lost  in  doubt  —  still  no 
summons  for  the  servant  disturbed  the  tran- 
quillity of  the  parlor  bell. 

Meanwhile,  after  parting  with  Mrs.  Le- 
count, Magdalen  had  cautiously  abstained 
from  crossing  the  road  to  her  lodgings,  and 
had  only  ventured  to  return  after  making  a 
circuit  in  the  neighborhood.  When  she  found 
herself  once  more  in  Yauxhall  Walk,  the  first 
object  which  attracted  her  attention  was  a 
cab  drawn  up  before  the  door  of  the  lodgings. 
A  few  steps  more  in  advance  showed  her  the 
landlady's  daughter,  standing  at  the  cab-door, 
engaged  in  a  dispute  with  the  driver  on  the 
subject  of  his  fare.  Noticing  that  the  girl's 
back  was  turned  toward  her,  Magdalen  in- 
stantly profited  by  that  circumstance,  and 
slipped  unobserved  into  the  house. 

She  glided  along  the  passage,  ascended  the 
stairs,  and  found  herself  on  the  first  landing, 
face  to  face  with  her  travelling  companion ! 
There  stood  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  a  pile  of 
small  parcels  hugged  up  in  her  arms,  anx- 
iously waiting  the  iSsue  of  the  dispute  with 
the  cabman  in  the  street.  To  return  was 
impossible  —  the  sound  of  the  angry  voices 
below  was  advancing  into  the  passage.  To 
hesitate  was  worse  than  useless.  But  one 
choice  was  left — the  choice  of  going  on — and 
Magdalen  desperately  took  it.  She  pushed 
by  Mrs.  Wragge  without  a  word ;  ran  into 
her  own  room,  tore  off"  her  cloak,  bonnet,  and 
wig,  and  threw  them  down  out  of  sight,  in 
the  blank  space  between  the  sofa- bedstead 
and  the  wall. 

For  the  first  few  moments  astonishment 
bereft  Mrs.  Wragge  of  the  power  of  speech, 
and  rooted  her  to  the  spot  where  she  stood. 
Two  out  of  the  collection  of  parcels  in  her 
arms  fell  from  them  on  the  stairs.  The  sight 
of  that  catastrophe  roused  her.  "  Thieves !" 
cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  suddenly  struck  by  an 
idea — "  thieves!" 

]Mag(lalen  heard  her  through  th»  room-door^ 
which  she  had  not  had  time  to  close  com- 
pletely. "  Is  that  jou,  Mrs.  Wragge  ?"  she 
called  out  in  her  own  voice.  "  What  is  the 
matter  ?"  She  snatched  up  a  towel  while  she 
spoke,  dipped  it  in  water,  and  passed  it  rap- 
idly over  the  lower  part  of  her  face.  At 
the  sound  of  the  familiar  voice  Mrs.  Wragge 
turned  round  —  dropped  a  third  parcel — and,. 


114 


NO  NAME. 


forgetting  it  in  her  astonishment,  ascended 
the  second  flight  of  stairs.  Magdalen  stepped 
out  on  the  first-floor  landing,  with  the  towel 
held  over  her  forehead  as  if  she  was  suffering 
from  headache.  Her  false  eyebrows  required 
time  for  their  removal,  and  a  headache,  as- 
sumed for  the  occasion,  suggested  the  most 
convenient  pretext  she  could  devise  for  hiding 
them  as  they  were  hidden  now. 

"  What  are  you  disturbing  the  house  for  ?" 
she  asked.  "  Pray  be  quiet.  I  am  half-blind 
with  the  headache." 

"  Anything  wrong,  ma'am  ?"  inquired  the 
landlady  from  the  passage. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  replied  Magdalen. 
"  My  friend  is  timid,  and  the  dispute  with  the 
cabman  has  frightened  her.  Pay  the  man 
what  he  wants,  and  let  him  go." 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  asked  Mrs.  WragL'e,  in  a 
tremulous  whisper.  "  Where  's  the  woman 
who  scuttled  by  me  into  your  i-oom  '?' 

"  Pooh  !"  said  Magdalen.  "  No  woman  scut- 
tled by  you,  as  you  call  it.  Look  in  and  see 
for  yourself." 

She  threw  open  the  door.  Mrs.  Wragge 
walked  into  the  room  —  looked  all  over  it  — 
saw  nobody,  and  indicated  her  astonishment 
at  the  result  by  dropping  a  fourth  parcel,  and 
trembling  helplessly  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  saw  her  go  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge, 
in  awe-struck  accents.  "  A  woman  in  a  gray 
cloak  and  a  poke  bonnet.  A  rude  woman. 
She  scuttled  by  me  on  the  stairs — she  did. 
Here  's  the  room,  and  no  woman  in  it.  Give 
us  a  Prayer-Book  !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  turn- 
ing deadly  pale,  and  letting  her  whole  remain- 
ing collection  of  parcels,  tall  about  her  in  a 
little  cascade  of  commodities.  "  I  want  to 
read  something  Good.  I  want  to  think  of 
my  latter  end.     I  've  seen  a  Ghost !" 

"  Nonsense  !"  said  Magdalen.  "  You  're 
dreaming ;  the  shopping  has  been  too  much  for 
you.  Go  into  your  own  room,  and  take  your 
bonnet  off."  " 

"  I  've  heard  tell  of  ghosts  in  nightgowns, 
ghosts  in  sheets,  and  ghosts  in  chains,"  pro- 
ceeded Mrs.  Wragge,  standing  petrified  in  her 
own  magic  circle  of  linen-drapers'  parcels. 
"  Here  's  a  worse  ghost  than  any  of  'em  —  a 

fhost  in  a  gray  cloak  and  a  poke  bonnet.  I 
now  what  it  is,"  continued  Mrs.  Wragge, 
melting  into  penitent  tears.  "It  's  a  judg- 
ment on  me  for  being  so  happy  away  from 
the  captain.  It  's  a  judgment  on  me  for  hav- 
ing been  down  at  heel  in  half  the  shops  in 
London,  first  with  one  shoe  and  then  with  the 
other,  all  the  time  I  've  been  out.  I  'm  a 
sinful  creature.  Don't  let  go  of  me  —  what- 
ever you  do,  my  dear,  don't  let  go  of  me  !" 
She  caught  Magdalen  fast  by  the  arm,  and 
fell  into  another  trembling  fit  at  the  bare  idea 
of  being  left  by  herself. 

The  one  remaining  chance  in  such  an  emer- 
gency as  this  was  to  submit  to  circumstances. 
Magdalen  took  Mrs.  Wragge  to  a  chair,  having 
first  placed  it  in  such  a  position  as  might  ena- 


ble her  to  turn  her  back  on  her  travelling- 
companion  while  she  removed  the  false  eye- 
brows by  the  help  of  a  little  water.  "  Wait  a 
minute  there,"  she  said,  "  and  try  if  you  can 
compose  yourself  while  I  bathe  my  head." 

"  Compose  myself?"  repeated  Mrs.  Wragge. 
"  How  am  I  to  compose  myself  when  my  head 
feels  off  my  shoulders  ?  The  worst  Buzzing  I 
ever  had  with  the  Cookery-book  was  nothing 
to  the  Buzzing  I  've  got  now  with  the  Ghost, 
Here's  a  miserable  end  to  a  holiday  !  You  may 
take  me  back  again,  my  dear,  whenever  you 
like — I  've  had  enough  of  it  already  !" 

Having  at  last  succeeded  in  removing  the 
eyebrows,  Magdalen  was  free  to  combat  the 
unfortunate  impression  produced  on  her  com- 
panion's mind  by  every  weapon  of  persuasion 
which  her  ingenuity  could  employ. 

The  attempt  prove  d  useless.  Mrs.  Wragge 
persisted  —  on  evidence  which,  it  may  be  re- 
marked in  parenthesis,  would  have  satisfied 
many  wiser  ghost-seers  than  herself —  in  be- 
lieving thatslie  had  been  supernaturally  favor- 
ed by  a  visitor  from  the  world  of  spirits.  All 
that  Magdalen  could  do  was  to  ascertain  by 
cautious  investigation  that  Mrs.  Wragge  had 
not  been  quick  enough  to  identify  the  supposed 
ghost  with  the  chai'acter  of  the  old  North- 
country  lady  in  the  Entertainment.  Having 
satisfied  herself  on  this  point,  she  had  no  re- 
source but  to  leave  the  rest  to  the  natural 
incapability  of  retaining  impi'essions  —  unless 
those  impressions  were  perpetually  renewed — ■ 
which  was  one  of  the  characteristic  infirmities 
of  her  companion's  weak  mind.  After  fortify- 
ing Mrs.  Wragge  by  reiterated  assurances 
that  one  appearance  (according  to  all  the  laws 
and  regulations  of  ghosts)  meant  nothing  un- 
less it  was  immediately  followed  by  two  more 
—  after  patiently  lea<ling  back  her  attention 
to  the  parcels  dropped  on  thfe  floor  and  on  the 
stairs,  and  afler  promising  to  keep  the  door  of 
communication  ajar  between  the  two  rooms,  if 
Mrs.  Wragge  would  engage  on  her  side  to  re- 
tire to  her  own  chamber,  and  to  say  no  more 
on  the  terrible  subject  of  the  ghost,  Magdalen 
at  last  secured  the  ^irivilege  of  reflecting  un- 
interruptedly on  the  events  of  that  memorable 
day. 

Two  serious  consequences  had  followed  her 
first  step  forward.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  enti-ap- 
ped  her  into  speaking  in  her  own  voice,  and 
accident  had  confronted  her  with  Mrs.  Wragye 
in  disguise. 

What  advantage  had  she  gained  to  set 
against  these  disasters  ?  The  advantage  of 
knowing  more  of  Noel  Vanstone  and  of  Mrs. 
Lecount  than  .she  might  have  discovered  in 
months,  if  she  had  trusted  to  inquiries  made 
for  her  by  others.  One  uncertainty  which 
had  hitherto  per|)le,xed  her  was  set  at  rest  al- 
ready. The  scheme  she  had  privately  devised 
against  Michael  Vanstone  —  which  Captain 
Wraggc's  sharp  insight  had  partially  penetrat- 
ed when  she  first  warned  him  that  their  part- 
nership  must  be   dissolved  —  was  a  scheme 


NO  NAME. 


116 


•which  she  could  now  plainly  see  must  be  aban- 
doned as  hopeless  in  the  case  of  Michael  Van- 
stone's  son.  The  father's  habits  of  speculation 
had  been  the  pivot  on  which  the  whole  ma- 
chinery of  her  meditated  conspiracy  had  been 
constructed  to  turn.  No  suth  vantajrc-ground 
was  discoverable  in  the  doubly  sordid  charac- 
tr^r  of  the  son.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  was 
invulnerable  on  the  very  point  which  had 
presented  itself  in  his  father  as  open  to  attack. 

Havin":  reached  this  conclusion,  how  was 
she  to  shape  her  future  course  ?  AVhat  new 
means  could  she  discover  which  would  lead  her 
Bccrctly  to  her  end  in  defiance  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  malicious  vigilance  and  Noel  Vanstone's 
miserly  distrust? 

She  was  seated  before  the  looking-glass,  me- 
chanically combing  out  her  hair,  while  that 
all-important  consideration  occupied  her  mind. 
The  agitation  of  the  moment  had  raised  a 
feverish  color  in  her  cheeks,  and  had  bright- 
ened tiie  light  in  her  large  gray  eyes.  She 
was  conscious  of  looking  her  best;  conscious 
how  her  beauty  gained  by  contrast  after  the 
removal  of  the  disguise.  Her  lovely  light- 
brown  hair  looked  thicker  and  soft,(>r  than 
ever,  now  that  it  had  escaped  from  its  impris- 
oiunent  under  the  gray  wig.  She  twisted  it 
this  way  and  that,  with  quick,  dextrous  fingers; 
she  laid  it  in  ma.=;ses  on  her  slioulders ;  she 
threw  it  back  from  them  in  a  heap,  and  turned 
sideways  to  see  how  it  fell  —  to  sec  her  back 
and  shoulders  freed  from  the  artificial  deformi- 
ties of  the  padded  cloak.  After  a  moment  she 
faced  the  looking-glas,s  once  more,  j)lunged 
both  hands  deep  in  her  hair,  and,  resting  lier 
elbows  on  the  t.able,  looked  clotH.T  and  closer 
at  the  refiection  of  hers»'lf,  until  her  breath 
began  to  dim  the  glass.  "  I  can  twist  any  man 
alive  round  my  finger,"  she  thought,  with  a 
smile  of  superb  triumph,  "  as  long  as  1  keep 
my  looks!  If  that  contemptible  wretch  saw 
me  now  — "  She  shrank  irom  following  the 
thought  to  its  end,  with  a  sudden  horror  of 
herself;  she  drew  back  trom  the  glass,  shud- 
dering, and  put  her  hands  over  her  lace.  "Oh, 
Frank  !"  she  murmured,  "  but  lor  you,  what  a 
wretch  I  might  be  !"  Her  eager  fingers  snatch- 
ed the  little  white  silk  bag  from  its  hiding-place 
in  her  bosom ;  her  lips  devoured  it  with  silent 
kisses.  "  My  darling  1  my  angel  1  Oh,  Frank, 
how  1  love  you  !"  The  tears  gushed  into  her 
eyes.  She  passionately  dried  them,  restored 
the  bag  to  its  place,  and  turned  her  back  on 
the  looking-glass.  *'  No  more  of  myself,"  she 
thought;  "  no  more  of  my  mad,  miserable  self 
for  to-day  !" 

Shrinking  from  all  further  contemplation  of 
her  next  step  in  advance — shrinking  from  the 
fast -darkening  future,  with  which  Noel  V^an- 
Btonc  was  now  assoiialed  in  her  inmost 
thoughts  —  she  looked  impatiently  about  the 
room  for  some  homely  occupation  which  might 
take  her  out  of  herself.  The  disguise  which 
she  had  flung  down  between  the  wall  and  the 
bed  recurred  to  her  memory.     It  was  impos- 


sible to  leave  it  there.  Mrs.  Wragge  (now 
occupied  in  sorting  her  parcels)  might  weary 
of  her  employment,  might  come  in  again  at  a 
moment's  notice,  might  pass  near  the  bed  and 
see  the  gray  cloak.     What  was  to  be  done  ? 

Her  first  thought  was  to  put  the  disguise 
back  in  her  trunk.  But,  after  what  had  hap- 
pened, there  was  danger  in  trusting  it  so  near 
to  herself  while  she  and  Mrs.  Wragge  wera 
together  under  the  same  roof.  She  resolved 
to  be  rid  of  it  that  evening,  and  boldly  de- 
termined on  sending  it  back  to  Birmingham. 
Her  bonnet-box  fitted  into  her  trunk.  She 
took  the  box  out,  thrust  in  the  wig  and  cloak, 
and  remorselessly  flattened  down  the  bonnet 
at  the  top.  The  gown  (which  she  had  not 
yet  taken  ofl)  was  her  own  ;  Mrs.  AVragge 
had  been  accustomed  to  see  her  in  it  —  there 
was  no  need  to  send  the  gown  back.  Before 
closing  the  box  she  hastily  traced  these  lines 
on  a  sheet  of  paper :  "  I  took  the  inclosed 
things  away  by  mistake.  Please  keep  them 
lor  me,  with  the  rest  of  my  luggage  in  your 
possession,  until  you  hear  from  me  again." 
Putting  the  paper  on  the  top  of  the  bonnet, 
she  directed  the  box  to  Captain  Wragge, 
at  Birmingham,  took  it  down  stairs  imme- 
diately, and  sent  the  landlady's  daughter 
away  with  it  to  the  nearest  Receiving  House. 
"That  difficulty  is  disposed  of," she  thought,  as 
she  went  back  to  her  own  room  again. 

Mrs.  Wragge  was  still  occupied  in  sorting 
her  parcels  on  her  narrow  little  bed.  She 
turned  round  with  a  faint  scream  when  Mag- 
dalen looked  in  at  her.  "  I  thought  it  was  the 
ghost  again,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  I  'm  try- 
ing to  take  warning,  my  dear,  by  what  's  haj)- 
pened  to  me.  I  'vc  put  all  my  parcels  straight, 
just  as  the  captain  would  like  to  see  'em.  I  'm 
up  at  heel  with  both  shoes.  If  I  close  my  eyes 
to-night — which  I  don't  think  I  shall — I  '11  go 
to  sleep  as  straight  as  my  legs  will  let  me. 
And  I  '11  never  have  another  holiday  as  long 
as  I  live.  I  hope  I  shall  be  forgiven,"  said 
Mrs.  Wragge,  mournfully  shaking  her  head. 
"  I  humbly  hope  1  shall  be  forgiven." 

"Forgiven!'  repeated  Magdalen.  "If  other 
women  wanted  as  little  forgiving  as  you  do  — 
Well !  well !  Sujjpose  you  open  some  of  those 
parcels.  Come  !  1  want  to  see  what  you  have 
been  buying  to-day." 

Mrs.  Wragge  hesitated,  sighed  penitently, 
considered  a  little,  stretched  out  her  hand  tim- 
idly toward  one  of  the  parcels,  thought  of  the 
supernatural  warning,  and  shrank  back  from 
her  own  purchases  with  a  desperate  exertion 
of  self"-control. 

"  Open  this  one,"  said  Magdalen,  to  en- 
courage her:  "  Wiiat  is  it?" 

^Irs.  Wragge's  faded  blue  eyes  began  to 
brighten  dimly  in  .<fpite  of  her  remorse,  but  she 
self-denyingly  shook  her  head.  The  master- 
passion  of  8hop{)ing  might  claim  his  own 
again  ;  but  the  ghost  was  not  laid  yet. 

"  Did  you  get  it  a  bargain  !"  asked  Mag- 
dalen, coufidcntially. 


116 


NO  NAME. 


"  Dirt  cheap,"  cried  poor  Mrs.  Wragge, 
falling  headlong  into  the  snare,  and  darting 
at  the  parcel  as  eagerly  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

Magdalen  kept  her  gossiping  over  her  pur- 
chases for  an  hour  or  more,  and  then  wisely 
determined  to  distract  her  attention  from  all 
ghostly  recollections  in  another  way  by  taking 
her  out  for  a  walk. 

As  they  left  the  lodgings  the  door  of  Noel 
Vanstone's  house  opened,  and  the  woman- 
servant  appeared,  bent  on  another  errand. 
She   was  apparently   charged   with  a  letter 


on  this  occasion,  which  she  carried  carefully  J 
in  her  hand.  Conscious  of  having  formed  no  ^ 
plan  yet,  either  for  attack  or  defence,  Mag- 
dalen wondered,  with  a  momentary  dread, 
whether  Mrs.  Lecount  had  decided  already  on 
opening  fresh  communications,  and  whether 
the  letter  was  directed  to  "  Miss  Garth." 

Th(!  letter  bore  no  such  address.  Mr.  Noel 
Yanstone  had  solved  his  pecuniary  problem  at 
last.  The  blank  space  in  the  advertisement 
was  filled  up,  and  Mrs.  Lecount's  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  captain's  anonymous  warning  was 
now  on  its  way  to  insertion  in  the  Times. 


THE  END  OF  THE  THIRD  SCENE. 


BETWEEN    THE    SCENES. 


[Extract  from     the    Advertising     Columnn    of    The 
Times  J\ 

"  An  Unknown  Friend  is  requested  to  men- 
tion (by  advertisement)  an  address  at  which 
a  letter  can  reach  him.  The  receipt  of  the 
information  which  he  offers  will  be  acknowl- 
edged by  a  reward  of  Five  Pounds." 

n. 

FROM    CAPTAIN    WRAGGE    TO    MAGDALKN. 

'■Birmingham,  Jifiy  2, 1S47. 

"  My  dkar  Girl — The  box  containing  the 
articles  of  costume  which  you  took  away  by 
mistake  has  come  safely  to  hand.  Consider  it 
under  my  special  protection  until  I  hear  from 
you  again. 

"  I  embrace  this  opportunity  to  assure  you 
once  more  of  my  unalterable  fidelity  to  your 
interests.  Without  attempting  to  intrude 
myself  into  your  confidence,  may  I  inquire 
whether  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  consented  to 
,do  you  justice?  I  greatly  fear  he  has  de- 
clined —  in  which  case  I  can  lay  my  hand 
on  my  heart,  and  solemnly  declare  that  his 
meanness  revolts  me.  Why  do  I  feel  a  fore- 
boding that  you  have  appealed  to  him  in 
vain  ■?  Why  do  I  find  myself  viewing  this 
fellow  in  the  light  of  a  noxious  insect  ?  We 
are  total  strangers  to  each  other ;  I  have  no 
sort  of  knowledge  of  him,  except  the  knowl- 
flSdge  I  picked  up  in  making  your  inquiries. 
iKas  my  intense  sympathy  with  your  interests 
.made  my  perceptions  prophetic  ?  or,  to  put  it 
fancifully,  is  there  really  such  a  thing  as  a 
fornorer  state  of  existence  ?  and  has  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  mortally  insulted  me  —  say,  in  some 
,  other  pJanet  ? 

"  I  write,  my  dear  Magdalen,  as  you  see, 
with  my  customary  dash  of  humor.  But  I  am 
serious  in  placing  my  services  at  your  disposal. 
Don't  let  the  question  of  terms  cause  you  an 
instant's  /tesitation.      I  accept,  beforehand, 


any  terms  you  like  to  mention.  If  your  pres- 
ent plans  point  that  way,  I  am  ready  to 
squeeze  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  in  your  interests, 
till  the  gold  oozes  out  of  him  at  every  pore. 
Pardon  tlie  coarseness  of  this  metaphor.  My 
anxiety  to  be  of  service  to  you  rushes  into 
words,  lays  my  meaning  in  the  rough  at  your 
feet,  and  leaves  your  taste  to  polish  it  with 
the  choicest  ornaments  of  the  English  lan- 
guage.     _  .  -        ,    . 

"  How  is  my  unfortunate  wife  ?  I  am  afraid 
you  find  it  quite  impossible  to  keep  her  up  at 
heel,  or  to  mould  her  personal  appearance  into 
harmony  with  the  eternal  laws  of  symmetry 
and  order.  Does  she  attempt  to  be  too  fa- 
miliar with  you  V  I  have  always  been  accus- 
tomed to  check  her  in  this  respect.  She  has 
never  been  permitted  to  call  me  anything  but 
Captain;  and  on  the  rare  occasions,  since  our 
union,  when  circumstances  may  have  obliged 
her  to  address  me  by  letter,  her  opening  form 
of  salutation  has  been  rigidly  restricted  to 
'  Dear  Sir.'  Accept  these  trifling  domestic 
particulars  as  suggesting  hints  which  may  be 
useful  to  you  in  managing  Mrs.  Wragge  ;^and 
believe  me,  in  anxious  expectation  of  hearing 
from  you  again, 

"  Devotedly  yours, 

"  HoKATio  Wragge." 

HI. 

FROM  NORAH  TO  MAGDALEN. 

[Foricarded,   with   the    Two   Letters   that   follow   it, 
from  the  Post-office,  Birmingham.] 

"  Westmoreland  House.  Kensington,  July  1. 

"My  dearkst  Magdalen -*- When  you 
write  next  (and  pray  write  soon  !)  address  your 
letter  to  me  at  Miss  Garth's.  I  have  left  my 
situation,  and  some  little  time  may  elapse 
before  I  find  another. 

"  Now  it  is  all  over,  I  may  acknowledge  to 
you,  my  darling,  that  I  was  not  happy.  I  tried 
hard  to  win  the  afiection  of  the  two  little  girls 


NO  NAME. 


117 


:  bad  to  tcacli ;  but  they  seemed,  I  am  sure  I 
;airt  tell  why,  to  dislike  me  from  the  first. 
Their  mother'l  have  no  reason  to  complain  of 
But  their  grandmother,  who  was  really  the 
i'uling  power  in  tlie  house,  made  my  life  very 
lard  to  me.  My  inexperience  in  teaching  was 
I  ((instant  subject  of  remark  with  her;  and 
iiv  (lifliculties  with  tlie  children  were  always^ 
risitcd  on  mc  as  if  they  had  Ihhmi  entirely  of 
11V  own  making.  1  tell  you  this,  so  that  you 
iMv  not  fiuppose  I  regret  having  left  my  situa- 
i(in.  Far  from  it,  my  love  —  I  am  glad  to  be 
:)iit  of  the  house. 

"  I  have  saved  a  little  money,  Magdalen,  and 
[  should  so  like  to  spend  it  in  staying  a  few 
Javs  with  you  !  My  heart  aches  for  a  sight  of 
nn  .sister;  my  ears  are  weary  for  the  sound  of 
hci-  voice.  A  word  from  you,  telling  me  where 
wc  can  meet,  is  all  I  want.  Think  of  it — pray 
think  of  it! 

"  Don't  suppose  I  am  discouraged  by  this 
first  check.  There  are  many  kind  people  in 
the  world,  and  some  of  tliem  may  employ  me 
next  time.  The  way  to  haj)piness  is  often 
Ycry  hard  to  find — harder,  I  almost  think,  for 
women  than  for  men.  But  if  we  only  try 
patient!}-,  and  try  long  enough,  we  reach  it  at 
last — in  heaven,  if  not  on  earth.  I  think  my 
ijray  now  is  the  way  which  leads  to  seeing  you 
igain.  Don't  forget  that,  my  love,  the  ne.\t 
ime  you  think  of  Nouah." 

IV. 

Fi:OM    MISS    OAllTn    TO    MAOnAI.EN. 

••Westmoreland  1Iou.sk.  July  1. 

"  My  dear  Magdalen* — You  have  no  use- 
less remonstrances  to  apprehend  at  the  sight 
jf  my  handwriting.  My  only  object  in  this 
letter  is  to  tell  you  something  which  I  know 
jrour  sister  will  not  tell  you  of  her  own  accord. 
She  is  entirely  ignorant  that  I  am  writing  to 
you.  Keep  her  in  ignorance,  if  you  wish  to 
ipare  her  unnecessary  anxiety,  and  me  un- 
necessary distress. 

'  Xorali's  letter,  no  doubt,  tells  you  that  she 
has  left  her  situation.  I  feel  it  my  painful  duty 
to  add  that  she  has  left  it  on  your  account. 

"  The  matter  occurred  in  this  manner : 
Messrs.  Wyatt,  Pendril,  and  Gwilt  are  the 
Bolicitors  of  the  gentleman  in  whose  family 
Norah  was  employed.  The  life  which  you  have 
chosen  for  yourself  was  known,  as  long  ago  as 
December  last,  to  all  the  partners.  You  were 
discovered  performing  in  public  at  Derby  by 
the  person  who  had  been  employed  to  trace 
you  at  York  ;  and  that  di.scovery  was  commu- 
nicated by  Mr.  Wyatt  to  Norah's  employer  a 
few  days  since,  in  reply  to  direct  inquiries 
about  you  on  that  gentleman's  part.  His  wife 
and  his  mother  (who  lives  with  him)  hafl  ex- 
pressly desired  that  he  would  make  those  in- 
quiries, their  doubts  having  been  aroused  by 
Norah's  evasive  answers  when  they  questioned 
her  about  her  sister.  You  know  Norah  too 
well  to  blame  her  for  this.     Evasion  was  the 


only  escape  your  present  life  had  left  her  from 
telling  a  downright  falsehood. 

"  That  same  day  the  two  ladies  of  the  family, 
the  elder  and  the  }Ounger,  sent  for  your  sister, 
and  told  her  tliey  had  discovered  that  you  were 
a  public  performer,  roaming  from  place  to 
place  in  tlic  country  under  an  assumed  name. 
They  were  just  enougli  not  to  blame  Norah 
for  this ;  they  were  just  enough  to  acknowl- 
edge that  her  conduct  had  been  as  irreproach- 
able as  I  had  guaranteed  it  should  be  wlicn  I 
got  her  the  situation.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
they  made  it  a  positive  condition  of  her  con- 
tinuing in  their  employment  that  she  should 
never  permit  you  to  visit  her  at  their  house,  or 
to  meet  her  and  walk  out  with  her  when  she 
was  in  attendance  on  the  ciiildren.  Your  sis- 
tor — who  has  patiently  borne  all  hardships  that 
fell  on  herself — instantly  resented  the  slur  cast 
on  you.  She  gave  her  employers  warning  on 
the  spot.  High  words  followed,  and  she  left 
the  house  that  evening. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  distress  you  by  repre- 
senting the  loss  of  this  situation  in  the  light  of 
a  disaster.  Norah  was  not  so  happy  in  it  as 
I  had  hoped  and  believed  she  would  be.  It 
was  impossilile  for  mc  to  know  beforehand  that 
the  children  were  sullen  and  intractable,  or 
that  the  husband's  mother  was  accustomed  to 
make  her  domineering  disposition  felt  by  every 
one  in  the  house.  I  will  readily  aduiit  that 
Norah  is  well  out  of  this  situation.  But  the 
harm  does  not  stop  here.  For  all  you  and  I 
know  to  the  contrary,  the  harm  may  go  on. 
What  has  happened  in  this  situation  may  hap- 
pen in  another.  Your  way  of  life,  however 
pure  your  conduct  may  be — and  I  will  do  yon 
the  justice  to  believe  it  pure  —  is  a  suspicious 
way  of  life  to  all  respectable  people.  I  have 
lived  long  enough  in  this  world  to  know  that 
the  Sense  of  Propriety,  in  nine  English  women 
out  of  ten,  makes  no  allowances  and  feels  no 
pity.  Norah's  next  employers  may  discover 
you,  and  Norah  may  throw  uj)  a  situation  next 
time  which  we  may  never  be  able  to  find  for 
her  again. 

"  I  leave  you  to  consider  this.  ^ly  child ! 
don't  think  I  am  hard  on  you.  I  am  jealous 
for  your  si.ster's  tramjuillity.  If  you  will  forget 
the'past,  Magdalen,  and  come  back  —  trust  to 
your  old  governess  to  forget  it  too,  and  to  give 
you  the  home  which  your  father  and  mother 
once  gave  her. 

"  Your  friend,  my  dear,  always, 

''  IIaruiet  Gautu." 


FROM    FRANCIS    CI-ARB,    JVH.,    TO    MAGDALF.N. 
'■Srakorii,  Chika,  April  23.  1847. 

"My  dear  Magdai-en — I  have  deferred 
answering  your  Iett<!r  in  conscfiuence  of  the 
di.stractcd  state  of  my  mind,  which  made  me 
unfit  to  write  (o  you.  I  am  still  unfit;  but  I 
feel  I  ought  to  delay  no  longer.     My  sense  of 


118 


NO  NAME. 


honor  fortifies  me,  and  I  undergo  the  pain  of 

•writing  this  letter. 

"  My  prospects  in  China  are  all  at  an  end. 
I'he  Firm  to  which  I  was  brutally  consigned 
as  if  I  was  a  bale  of  merchandise  has  worn  out  | 
my  patience  by  a  series  of  petty  insults,  and  I  j 
have  felt  compelled,  from  motives  of  self-rc-  I 
spect,  to  withdraw   my  services,  which  were  | 
undervalued  from  the  first.     My  returning  to  ' 
England  under  these  circumstances  is  out  of  i 
the  question.     I  have  been  too  cruelly  used  in 
my  own  country  to  wish  to  go  back  to  it,  even 
if  I  could.     I  propose  embarking  on  board  a 
private  trading  vessel  in  these  seas,  in  a  mer- 
cantile capacity,  to  make  my  way,  if  I  can,  for 
myself     How  it  will  end,  or  what  will  happen 
to  me  next,  is  more  than  I  can  say.     It  mat- 
ters little  what  becomes  of  me.     I  am  a  wan- 
derer and  an  exile,  entirely  through  the  fault 
of  others.     The  unfeeling  desire  "at  home  to 
get  rid  of  me  has  accomplished  its  object.     I 
am  got  rid  of  for  good. 

"  There  is  only  one  more  sacrifice  left  for  me 
to  make  —  the  sacrifice  of  my  heart's  dearest 
feelings.  With  no  prospects  before  me,  with 
no  cliauce  of  coming  home,  what  hope  can  I 
feel  of  performing  my  engagement  to  your- 
self? None  !  A  more  selfisli  man  than  I  am 
might  hold  you  to  that  engagement;  a  less 
considerate  man  than  I  am  might  keep  you 
waiting  for  years,  and  to  no  purpose  after  all. 
Cruelly  as  they  have  been  trampled  on,  my 
feelings  are  too  sensitive  to  allow  me  to  do 
this.  I  write  it  with  the  tears  in  my  eyes  — 
you  shall  not  link  your  fate  to  an  outcast. 
Accept  these  heart-broken  lines  as  releasing 
you  trom  your  promise.  Our  engagement  is 
at  an  end. 

"  The  one  consolation  which  supports  me  in 
bidding  you  farewell  is,  that  neither  of  us  is 
to  blame.  You  may  have  acted  weakly  under 
my  father's  influence,  but  I  am  sure  you  acted 
for  the  best.  Nobody  knevr  what  the  fatal 
consequences  of  driving  me  out  of  England 
would  be  but  myself,  and  I  was  not  listened 
to.  I  yielded  to  my  father,  1  yielded  to  you, 
and  this  is  the  end  of  it ! 

"  J  am  suffering  too  acutely  to  write  moi-e. 
May  you  never  know  what  my  ivithdrawal 
from  our  engagement  has  cost  me!  I  beg  you 
will  not  blame  yourself  It  is  not  your  fault 
that  I  have  had  all  my  energies  misdirected 
by  others  —  it  is  not  your  fault  that  I  have 
never  had  a  fair  chance  of  getting  on  in  life. 
Forget  the  deserted  wi'etch  who  breathes  his 
heartfelt  prayers  for  your  happiness,  and  who 
■will  ever  remain  your  friend  and  well-wisher, 
"Francis  Clare,  Jun." 

VI. 

PROM  FRANCIS  CLAUE,  SEN.,  TO  MAGDALEN. 
(Inclosing  the  Preceding  Letter.) 

"  I  always  told  your  poor  father  my  son 
■was  a  Fool ;  but  I  never  knew  he  was  a 
Scoundrel  until  the  mail  came  in  from  China. 


I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  lef 
his  employers  under  the  most  disgraceful  cir 
cumstances.  Forget  him  from  this  time  fortl 
as  I  do.  When  you  and  I  last  set  eyes  ol 
each  other  you  behaved  well  to  me  in  thf 
business.  AH  I  can  now  say  in  return  I  d| 
say.     My  girl,  I  am  sorry  for  you. 

"  F.  C." 
VII. 

KKOM  MRS.  WRAGOE  TO    HER  HUSBAND. 

"  dear  sir  for  mercy's  sake  come  here  and 
help  us  She  had  a  dreadful  letter  I  don't  know 
what  yesterday  but  she  read  it  in  bed  and 
when  I  went  in  with  her  breakfast  I  found 
her  dead  and  if  the  doctor  had  not  been  twoi, 
doors  off  nobody  else  could  have  brought  her  toe 
life  again  and  she  sits  and  looks  dreadful  and; 
wont  speak  a  word  her  eyes  frighten  me  so  I 
shake  from  head  to  foot  oh  please  do  come  I 
keep  things  as  tidy  as  I  can  and  I  do  like  her 
so  and  she  used  to  be  so  kind  to  me  and  the 
landlord  says  he  's  afraid  she  '11  destroy  her- 
self I  wish  I  could  write  straight  but  I  do 
shake  so  your  dutiful  wife  matilda  wragge 
excuse  faults  and  beg  you  on  my  knees  come 
and  help  us  the  Doctor  good  man  will  put 
some  of  his  own  writing  into  this  for  fear  you 
can't  make  out  mine  and  remain  once  more 
your  dutiful  wife  matilda  wragge." 

\^Added  h>i  the  Doctor.'] 

"  Sir — I  beg  to  inform  you  that  I  was  yes- 
terday called  in  to  a  neighbor's  in  Vauxhall 
Walk,  to  attend  a  young  lady  who  had  been 
suddenly  taken  ill.  I  recovered  her  with 
great  difficulty  from  one  of  the  most  obstinate 
fainting  fits  I  ever  remember  to  have  met 
with.  Since  that  time  she  has  had  no  relapse, 
but  there  is  apparently  some  heavy  distress 
weighing  on  her  mind,  which  it  has  hithertc 
been  found  impossible  to  remove.  She  sits, 
as  I  am  informed,  perfec;tly  silent,  and  per- 
fectly unsconscious  of  what  goes  on  about  her,! 
for  hours  together,  with  a  letter  in  her  handj 
which  she  will  allow  nobody  to  take  from  her 
If  this  state  of  depression  continues  very  dis- 
tressing mental  consequences  may  follow  ;  ant 
I  only  do  my  duty  in  suggesting  that  somt]  | 
relative  or  friend  should  interfei-e  who  has 
influence  enough  to  rouse  her. 
"  Your  obedient  servant,  , 

"  Richard  Jarvis,  M.  R.  C.  S.' 

VIII. 

FROM  NORAH  TO  MAGDALEN. 

"Jtdy  b. 

"  For  God's  sake,  write  me  one  line  to  saj 
if  you  are  still  at  Birmingham,  and  where  . 
can  find  you  there  !  I  have  just  heard  fronj 
old  Mr.  Clare.  Oh,  Magdalen,  if  you  hav«j 
no  pity  on  yourself,  have  some  pity  on  me 
The  thought  of  you  alone  among  strangersj 
the  thought  of  you  heart-broken  under  thi:j 
dreadful  blow,  never  leaves  me  for  an  instant; 
No  words  can  tell  how  I  feel  for  you  I    Mj 


NO  NAME. 


11» 


wn  love,  remember  the  better  days  at  home  I 
efore  that  cowardly  villain  stole  his  way  into 
our  heart;  remember  tlie  happy  time  at 
^ombe-Raven,  when  we  were  always  together. 
)h,  don't  —  don't  treat  me  like  a  stranger! 
fVe  arc  alone  in  the  world  now  —  let  me 
ome  and  comTort  you- — let  me  be  more  than 
i  sister  to  you,  if  1  ean.  One  line — only  one 
iue  to  tell  me  where  I  can  find  you  !"  ; 

IX. 

FROM   MA0I)AL1!N  TO   NlJUAH. 

"Juhj-i. 

"  My  DKARK8T  NoKAH — All  that  your  love 
or  me  can  wish  your  letter  has  done.  You, 
ind  vou  alone,  liavo  Ibund  your  way  to  my 
icart.  I  could  think  again,  I  could  I'eel  again, 
dter  reading  what  you  have  written  to  mc. 
A'.t  this  assurance  quiet  your  anxieties.  My 
nind  lives  and  brcatlies  once  more  —  it  was 
icad  unlil  I  got  your  letter. 

"  Tiie  shock  I  have  suffered  has  left  a  strange 
juietness  in  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  parted  from 
uy  former  self — as  if  the  hopes,  once  so  dc^ar  to 
ne,  li;id  all  gone  bac^k  to  some  past  time,  from 
vhicli  1  am  now  far  removed.  I  can  look  at 
.he  wreck  of  my  life  more  calmly,  Norah,  than 
,-on  eould  look  at  it  if  we  were  both  together 
igaiii.  lean  trust  myself  already  to  write  of 
Frank. 

♦'  ]\Iy  darling,  I  think  no  woman  ever  knows 
low  utterly  slie  has  given  herself  up  to  the 
nan  slic  loves  until  that  man  has  ill-treated 
ler.  Can  you  j)ity  my  weakness  if  I  confess 
,0  having  felt  a  pang  at  my  heart,  when  I  read 
,hat  ])art  of  your  letter  which  calls  Frank  a 
loward  and  a  villain  V  Nobody  can  despise 
ne  for  this,  as  I  despise  myself.  I  am- like  a 
log  wlio  crawls  back  and  licks  the  master's 
land  that  has  beaten  him.  But  it  is  so — I 
ivoulil  confess  it  to  nobody  but  you  —  indeed, 
indeed  it  is  so.  He  has  deceivtd  and  deserted 
nu- ;  he  lias  written  me  a  cruel  farewell  —  but 
lon't  rail  him  a  villain  !  If  he  repented  and 
::anu'  back  to  me,  I  would  die  rather  than 
marry  him  now ;  but  it  grates  on  me  to  see 
that  word  coward  written  against  him  in  your 
hand!  If  he  is  weak  of  purpose,  who  tried 
his  weakness  beyond  what  it  could  bear?  Do 
you  think  this  woidd  have  happened  if  Michael 
Vanstone  ha<l  not  robbed  us  of  our  own,  and 
forced  Frank  away  from  me  to  China?  In  a 
week  from  to-day  the  year  of  waiting  would 
havi-  (;ome  to  an  end  ;  and  I  should  have  been 
Frank's  wife,  if  my  marriage  portion  had  not 
been  taken  from  me. 

"  You  will  say,  after  what  has  happened,  it 
is  well  that  I  have  escaped.  TVIy  love  !  there 
is  !-omething  perverse  in  my  lieart  which 
answers,  No!  Better  have  been  Frank's 
wret<  lied  wi/e  than  the  free  woman  I  am  now. 
"  I  have  not  written  to  him.  He  sends  me 
no  aildress  at  which  I  could  write  even  if  I 
would.  But  1  have  not  the  wish.  I  will  wait 
before  I  stnd  him  viy  farewell.  If  a  day  ever 
comes  when  I   have    the   fortune   which   my 


father  once  promised  I  should  bring  to  him  — 
do  you  know  what  I  would  do  with  it?  I 
would  send  it  all  to  Frank,  as  my  revenge  on 
him  for  his  letter  ;  as  the  last  farewell  word, 
on  my  side,  to  the  man  who  has  deserted  me. 
Let  me  live  for  that  day  !  Let  me  live, 
Norah,  in  the  hope  of  better  times  for  i/ou, 
which  is  all  the  hope  I  have  left.  When  I 
think  of  your  hard  life,  I  can  almost  feel  tho 
tears  once  more  in  my  weary  eyes  —  I  can 
almost  think  I  have  come  back  again  to  my 
former  self 

"  You  will  not  think  me  hard-hearted  and 
ungrateful  if  I  say  that  we  must  wait  a  little 
yet  bef)re  we  meet?  I  want  to  be  more  fit 
to  see  you  than  I  am  now.  I  want  to  put 
Frank  farther  away  from  me,  and  to  biing 
you  nearer  still.  Are  these  good  reasons  ?  I 
"don't  know — don't  ask  me  for  reasons.  Take 
the  kiss  I  have  put  for  you  here,  where  the 
little  circle  is  drawn  on  the  paper,  and  let  that 
bring  us  together  for  the  present,  till  I  write 
auain.  Goodby,  my  love.  My  heart  is  true 
to  you,  Norah,  but  I  dare  not  see  you  yet. 

"  Magdalen." 
X. 


♦ 


rrtlJM    MAGDALEN  TO  MISS  OAIITH. 

"Juhj  1.5. 

"Mydkak  Miss  Garth  —  I  have  been 
long  in  answering  your  letter;  but  you  know 
what  has  lia[i])ened,  and  you  will  forgive  me. 

"  All  that  1  have  to  say  may  be  said  in  few 
words.  You  may  depend  on  my  never  making 
the  general  Sense  of  Froijriety  my  enemy 
a<rain  :  I  am  getting  knowledge  enough  ol  the 
world  to  make  it  my  accomplice  next  time. 
Norah  will  never  leave  another  situation  on 
my  account  —  my  life  as  a  public  i)crformer 
is  at  an  end.  It  was  harmless  enough,  (Jod 
knows  —  I  may  live,  and  so  may  \ou,  to 
mourn  the  day  when  1  parted  from  it  —  but  I 
shall  never  return  to  it  again.  It  has  left  me, 
as  Frank  has  leJtme,  as  all  my  better  thought* 
have  left  me  —  except  my  thoughts  of  Norah. 

"  F>nough  of  myself!  Shall  I  tell  you  soma 
news  to  brighten  this  dull  letter?  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone  is  dead,  and  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  has  succeeded  to  the  possession  of 
my  fortune  and  Norah's.  He  is  (piite  worthy 
of  his  inheritance.  In  his  father's  place  he 
would  have  ruined  us  as  his  father  did. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say  that  you  would  care 
to  know.  Don't  be  distressed  about  me.  I 
am  trying  to  recover  my  spirits  -—  I  am  try- 
ing to  forget  the  poor,  deluded  girl  who  was 
foolish  enough  to  i)e  fond  of  Frank  in  the  old 
days  at  Cond)e-Ivavcn.  Sometimes  a  pang 
comes  which  tells  me  the  girl  won't  be  forgot- 
ten, but  not  often. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,  when  you  wrote 
to  such  a  lost  <Tcature  as  I  am,  to  .>-ign  your- 
self—  ahcaj/x  my  friend  !  '  Always'  is  a  bold 
word,  my  dear  old  governess !  I  wonder 
whether  you  will  ever  want  to  recall  it  ?  Il 
will  mak»!  no  dilfercnce  if  you  do,  in  the  grat- 
itude I  shall  always  feci  lor  the  trouble  you 


120 


NO  NAME. 


took  with  me  when  I  was  a  little  giil.  I  have 
ill  repaid  that  trouble  —  ill  repaid  your  kind- 
ness to  me  in  after-life.  I  ask  your  pardon 
and  your  pity.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  for 
both  of  us  is  to  forget  me.  Affectionately 
yours,  Magdalen. 

"  P.  S.  —  I  open  the  envelope  to  add  one 
line.  For  God's  sake,  don't  show  this  letter 
to  Norah  !  " 

XI. 

FROM   MAGDALKN  TO  CAPTAIN  WRAGOK. 

••  Vauxham,  Walk.  July  17. 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  was  arranged 
that  I  should  write  to  you  at  Birmingham  as 
soon  as  I  felt  myself  composed  enou'di  to 
think  of  the  future.  My  mind  is  settled  at 
last,  and  1  am  now  able  to  accept  the  services 
which  you  have  unreservedly  offered  to  me. 

"  I  beg  you  will  forgive  the  manner  in 
which  I  received  you,  on  your  arrival  in  this 
house,  after  hearing  the  news  of  my  sudden 
illness.  I  was  quite  incapable  of  controlling 
myself — I  was  suffering  an  agony  of  mind 
which  for  the  time  deprived  me  of  my  senses. 
It  is  only  your  due  that  I  should  now  thank 
you  for  treating  me  with  great  forbearance, 
at  a  time  when  forbearance  was  mercy. 

"  I  will  mention  what  I  wish  you  to  do  as 
plainly  and  brieiiy  as  I  can.  | 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  request  you  to  dispose  i 
(as  privately  as  possible)  of  every  article  of 
costume  used  in  the  dramatic  Entertainment. 
I  have  done  with  our  performances  for  ever, 
and  I  wish  to  be  set  free  from  everything 
which  might  accidentally  connect  me  with 
them  in  the  future.  The  key  of  my  box  is 
enclosed  in  this  letter. 

"  The  other  box,  which  contains  my  own 
dresses,  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  forward 
to  this  house.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  bring  it 
yourself,  because  I  have  a  far  more  important 
commission  to  entrust  to  you. 

"  Referring  to  the  note  which  you  left  for 
me  at  your  departure,  I  conclude  that  you 
have  by  this  time  traced  Mr.  Noel  Vanstcne 
from  Vauxhall  Walk  to  the  residence  whicli 
he  is  now  occupying.  If  you  have  made  the 
discovery  —  and  if  you  are  (juite  sure  of  not 
having  drawn  the  attention  either  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count  or  her  master  to  yourself—  I  wish  you 
to  arrange  immediately  for  my  residing  (with 
you  and  Mrs.  Wragge)  in  the  same  town  or 
village  in  which  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  taken 
up  his  abode.  I  write  this,  it  Is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  say,  under  the  impression  that  wher- 
ever he  may  now  be  living  he  is  settled  in  the 
place  for  some  little  time. 

"If  you  can  find  a  small  furnished  house  for 
me  on  these  conditions,  which  is  to  be  let  by 
the  month,  take  it  for  a  month  certain  to  be- 
gin with.  Say  that  it  is  for  your  wife,  your 
niece,  and  yourself,  and  use  any  assumed  name 
you  please,  so  long  as  it  is  a  name  which  can 
be  trusted  to  defeat  the  most  suspicious  inqui- 
ries.    I  leave  this  to  your  experience  in  such 


matters.  The  secret  of  who  we  really  are 
must  be  kept  as  strictly  as  if  it  was  a  secret  on 
which  our  lives  depend. 

"Any  expense  to  which  you  may  be  put  in 
carrying  out  my  wishes  I  will  immediately  re- 
pay. If  you  easily  find  the  sort  of  house  I 
want,  there  is  no  need  for  your  returning  to 
Lonilon  to  fetch  us.  We  can  join  you  as  soon 
as  we  know  where  to  go.  The  house  must  be 
perfectly  respec^table,  and  must  be  reasonably 
near  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  present  residence, 
wherever  that  is. 

"  You  must  allow  me  to  be  silent  in  this  let- 
ter as  to  the  object  which  I  have  now  in  view, 
1  am  unwilling  to  risk  an  explanation  in  writ- 
ing. When  all  our  preparations  are  made 
you  shall  hear  what  I  propose  to  do  from  my 
own  lips;  and  I  shall  expect  you  to  tell  me 
plainly  in  return  whether  you  will,  or  will  not, 
give  me  the  help  I  want,  on  the  best  terms 
which  I  am  able  to  offer  you. 

"  One  more  word  before  I  seal  up  this  letter, 

"  If  any  opportunity  falls  in  your  way,  after 
you  have  taken  the  house  and  before  we  join 
you,  of  exchanging  a  few  civil  words  either 
with  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  or  Mrs.  Lecount, 
take  advantage  of  it.  It  is  very  important  to 
my  present  object  that  we  should  become  ac- 
(juainted  with  each  other — as  the  purely  acci- 
dental result  of  our  being  near  neighbors.  I 
want  you  to  smooth  the  way  toward  this  end, 
if  you  can,  before  Mrs.  Wragge  and  I  come  to 
you.  Pray  throw  away  no  chance  of  observ- 
ing Mrs.  Lecount  in  particular  very  carefully. 
Whatever  help  you  can  give  me  at  the  outset 
in  blindfolding  that  woman's  sharp  eyes  will 
be  the  most  precious  help  I  have  ever  received 
at  your  hands. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  answer  this  letter  im- 
mediately —  unless  I  have  written  it  under  a 
mistaken  impression  of  what  you  have  accom- 
plished since  leaving  London.  I  have  taken  \ 
our  lodgings  on  for  another  week,  and  I  can  ; 
wait  to  hear  from  you  until  you  are  able  to 
send  me  such  news  as  I  wish  to  receive.  You 
may  be  quite  sure  of  my  patience  for  the  fu- 
ture, under  all  possible  circumstances.  My 
caprices  are  at  an  end,  and  my  violent  temper 
has  tried  your  forbearance  for  the  last  time, 
"  Magdalen." 

XII. 

vrom  captain  wragge  to  magdaleh. 

"  North  Shi.nolks  Villa, 
Albbokough,  Suffolk,  July  22, 

"  My  dear  Girl — Your  letter  has  charm- 
ed and  touched  me.  Your  excuses  have  gone 
straight  to  my  heart,  and  your  confidence  in 
my  humble  abilities  has  followed  in  the  same 
direction.  The  pulse  of  the  old  militia-man 
throbs  with  pride  as  he  thinks  of  the  trust  you 
have  placed  in  him,  and  vows  to  deserve  it. 
Don't  be  surprised  at  this  genial  outburst.  All 
enthusiastic  natures  must  explode  occasional- 
ly, and  7?!^  form  of  explosion  is — Words. 


NO  NAME. 


131 


"  Everything  you  wanted  me  to  do  is  done. 
The  house  is  taken;  the  name  is  found;  and  I 
\m  personally  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Lecount. 
After  readinjj  this  general  statement  you  will 
naturally  be  Tnterested  in  possessing  your  miud 
next  of  the  accompanying  details.  Here  they 
arc,  at  your  service. 

"  The  day  after  leaving  you  in  London  I 
traced  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  this  curious  little 
■;c;i-side  snuggery.  One  of  his  father's  innu- 
merable bargains  was  a  house  at  Aldborough — 
a  risinof  watering-place,  or  Mr.  Michael  Van- 
stone  would  not  have  invested  a  farthing  in 
it.  In  this  house  the  despicable  little  miser, 
who  lived  rent-free  in  London,  now  lives  rent- 
fno  acrain,  on  the  coast  of  Suffolk.  He  is  set- 
tled in  his  present  abode  for  the  summer  and 
autumn;  and  you  and  Mrs.  Wragge  have  only 
(ii  join  mc  here  to  be  established  five  doors 
away  from  him  in  this  elegant  villa.  I  have 
got  tlie  whole  house  for  three  guineas  a  week, 
with  the  option  of  remaining  through  the  au- 
tumn at  the  same  price.  In  a  fashionalile 
watering-place  such  a  residence  would  have 
lucn  cheap  at  double  the  money. 

"  Our  new  name  has  been  chosen  with  a 
wary  eye  to  your  suggestions.  My  Books — I 
hope  you  have  not  forgotten  my  Books  ?  — 
contain,  under  the  heading  of  Shins  to  Jump 
'Into,  a  list  of  individuals  retired  from  this 
mortal  scene,  with  whose  names,  families,  and 
circumstances  I  am  well  accjuainted.  Into 
some  of  those  Skins  I  have  been  compelled  to 
Jump,  in  the  exercise  of  my  profession,  at  for- 
mer periods  of  my  career.  Others  are  still  in 
the  condition  of  new  dresses,  and  remain  to 
be  tried  on.  The  Skin  which  will  exactly  fit 
as  originally  clothed  the  bodies  of  a  family 
named  Bygrave.  I  am  in  Mr.  Bygrave's  skin 
at  this  moment — and  it  fits  without  a  wrinkle. 
If  you  will  oblige  me  by  .^lipping  into  Mis.s  By- 
grave  (Christian  name,  Susan);  and  if  you 
will  afterward  push  Mrs.  Wragge  —  anyhow; 
bead-foremost  if  you  like — into  Mrs.  Bygrave 
(Christian  name,  Julia),  the  transformation 
will  be  complete.  Permit  me  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  your  paternal  unch.  My  worthy 
brother  was  established,  twenty  years  ago,  in 
the  mahogany  and  logwood  trade  at  Belize, 
Honduras.  He  died  in  that  place,  and  is  bur- 
ied on  the  .south-west  side  of  the  local  ceme- 
tery, with  a  neat  monument  of  native  wood 
carved  by  a  self-taught  negro  artist.  Nine- 
teen months  afterward  his  wife  died  of  apo- 
plexy at  a  boarding-house  in  Cheltenham. 
She  was  supposed  to  Ikj  the  most  corpulent 
woman  in  lOngland,  and  was  accommodated 
on  the  ground-floor  of  the  house  in  conse- 
(juence  of  the  difficulty  of  getting  her  up  and 
down  stairs.  You  are  her  only  child;  you 
have  bicn  under  my  care  since  the  sad  event 
in  Clielteiiham  ;  you  are  twenty  years  old  on 
the  second  of  August  next;  and,  corpulence 
excepted,  you  are  the  living  image  of  your 
mother.  I  trouble  you  with  these  specimens 
of  my  intimate  knowledge  of  our  new  family 
16 


Skin,  to  quiet  your  mind  on  the  subject  of 
future  inquiries.  Trust  to  me  and  my  Books 
to  satisfy  any  amount  of  inquiry.  In  the 
meantime  write  down  our  new  name  and 
address,  and  see  how  they  strike  you  —  '  Mr. 
Bygrave,  Mrs.  Bygrave,  Miss  Bygrave,  North 
Shingles  Villa,  Aldborough.'  Upon  my  life, 
it  reads  remarkably  well  I 

"  The  last  detail  I  have  to  communicate  re- 
fers to  my  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"We  met  yesterday,  in  the  grocers  shop 
here.  Keeping  my  ears  open,  I  found  that 
Mrs.  Lecount  wanted  a  particular  kind  of  tea, 
which  the  man  had  not  got,  and  which  he  be- 
lieved could  not  be  procured  any  nearer  than 
Ipswich.  I  instantly  saw  my  way  to  beginning 
an  acquaintance,  at  the  trifling  expense  of  a 
journey  to  that  flourishing  ( ity.  'I  have  bus- 
iness to-day  at  Ipswich,'  I  said, '  and  I  propose 
returning  to  Aldborough  (if  I  can  get  back  in 
time)  this  evening.  Pray  allow  me  to  take 
your  order  for  the  tea,  and  to  bring  it  back 
with  my  own  parcels.'  Mrs.  Lecount  politely 
declined  giving  mc  the  trouble — I  politely  in- 
sisted on  taking  it.  We  fell  into  conversation. 
There  is  no  need  to  trouble  you  with  our  talk. 
The  result  of  it  on  my  mind  is,  that  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  one  weak  point,  if  she  has  such  a  thing 
at  all,  is  a  taste  for  science,  implanted  by  her 
deceased  husband,  the  Professor.  I  think  I 
see  a  chance  here  of  working  my  way  into 
her  good  graces,  and  casting  a  little  needful 
dust  into  those  handsome  black  eyes  of  hers. 
Acting  on  this  idea,  when  I  purchased  the 
lady's  tea  at  Ipswich  I  also  bought  on  my  own 
account  that  far-famed  pocket  manual  of 
knowledge,  '  Joy-ce's  Scientific  Dialogues.' 
Possessing,  as  I  do,  a  quick  memory  and 
boundless  confidence  iu  myself,  I  propose  pri- 
vately inflatiiig  my  new  skin  with  as  much 
ready-made  science  as  it  will  hold,  and  pre- 
senting Mr.  Bygrave  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  notice 
in  the  character  of  the  most  highly-informed 
man  she  has  met  with  since  the  Professor's 
death.  The  necessity  of  blindfolding  that 
woman  (to  use  your  own  admirable  expres- 
sion) is  as  clear  to  me  as  to  you.  If  it  is  to 
be  done  in  the  way  I  propose,  make  your 
mind  easy — Wragge,  inflated  by  Joyce,  is  the 
man  to  do  it. 

"  You  now  have  my  whole  budget  of  uewg. 
Am  I,  or  am  I  not,  worthy  of  your  confidence 
iu  mc  ?  I  say  nothing  of  my  devouring 
anxiety  to  know  what  your  objects  really  are. 
— that  anxiety  will  be  satisfied  when  we  meet.. 
Never  yet,  my  dear  girl,  did  I  long  to  admin- 
ister a  productive  pecuniary  Squeeze  to  any 
human  creature  as  I  long  to  administer  it  to 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  I  say  no  more.  V'erbum 
nap.  Pardon  the  pedantry  of  a  Latin  quota- 
tion, and  beUeve  me, 

"  Entirely  yours, 

"  Horatio  Wragge. 

"  P.  S. — I  await  my  instructions,  as  you  re- 
quested.    You  have  only  ta  say  whether  1 


^ 


122  NO  NAME. 

XIII. 

Hhall  return   to  London    for    tin;    purpose   ofj  [Eximct/rom  i!,e  r:.,si  Sufolk  Ar.jni,.] 

escorting  you  to  this  place,  or  wlietlior  ]  sliall  "  Ai.djjorougii. — We  notice  with  pleasure 
wait  here  to  receive  you.  The  house  is  in  i  the  arrival  of  visitors  to  this  healthful  and  far- 
perfect  order,  the  weather  is  charniinjr,  and  ;  famed  waterinir-phice  earlier  in  the  season 
the  sea  is  rs  smooth  as  Mrs.  Lecownt's  ajtron.  :  than  usual  durinj];  the  present  year.  Esto 
She  has  just  passed  the  window,  and  we  have  !  pcrpelvo  is  all  we  have  to  say. 


exchanjied  bows.  A  sharp  woman,  my  dear 
Magdalen,  but  Joyce  and  I  together  may  prove 
a  trifle  too  much  for  her." 


V^isiTOUs'  List. — Arrivals  since  our  last : 
North  Shingles  Villa  —  Mrs.  Bygrave;  Mis3 
Bygravc." 


THE   FOURTH   SCENE-ALDBOROUGH,  SUFFOLK. 


CHAPTER  L 

The  most  striking  spectacle  presented  to  a 
stranger  by  the  shores  of  Suffolk  is  the  ex- 
traordinary defencelessness  of  the  land  against 
the  emroafhments  of  tiie  sea. 

At  Aldborough,  as  elsewhere  on  this  coast, 
local  traditions  are,  for  the  most  j)art,  tradi- 
tions which  have  been  literally  drowned.  The 
site  of  the  old  town,  once  a  pojjulous  and 
thriving  port,  has  almost  entirely  disappeared 
in  the  sea.  The  (i(;rman  Ocean  lias  swallowed 
up  streets,  market-places,  jetties,  and  [lublic 
walks;  and  the  merciless  waters,  consunniial- 
ing  their  work  of  devastation,  closed,  no  longer 
than  eighty  years  sincte,  over  the  salt-maslei-'s 
cottage  at  Aldborough,  now  famous  in  memory 
onlv  as  the  birth-})Iace  of  the  ])0ct  Crabbe. 

Thrust  back  year  after  ye  tr  by  the  advanc- 
incf  waves,  the  inhabitants  have  reecided,  in 
the  ])rcsent  century,  to  the  last  morsel  of  land 
which  is  firm  enough  to  be  built  on — a  strip  of 
grounil  hennaed  in  between  a  r^.'^r^h  on  one 
side  and  the  sea  on  the  other,  m're,  trusting 
for  their  future  Secui-ity  to  certain  sandhills 
which  the  capricious  waves  have  thrown  up 
to  encourage  them,  the  people  of  Aldborougii 
have  boldly  establislied  their  cpiaint  little  water- 
ing-place. The  first  fragment  oi"  their  earthly 
possessions  is  a  low,  natural  dyke  of  shingle, 
surmounted  by  a  jjultlic  path  which  runs 
parallel  with  the  sea.  Bordi  ring  this  path  in 
a  broken,  uneven  line  are  the  villa  residences 
of  modern  Aldborough — fanciful  little  liouses, 
standing  mostly  in  their  own  gardens,  and 
possesning  here  and  there,  as  horticultural 
ornaments,  staring  figure-heads  of  ships,  doing 
duty  tor  statues  among  the  flowers.  Viewed 
from  the  low  level  on  which  these  villas  stand, 
the  sea,  in  certain  conditions  of  the  atmos- 
phere, appears  to  be  higher  than  the  lan<l ; 
coasting- vessels  gliding  by  assume  gigantic 
projiorlions  and  look  alarmingly  near  the 
tvinilows.  Intermixed  with  the  houses  of  the 
.  better  sort  are  buildings  of  other  forms  and 
periods.  In  one  direction  the  tiny  Gothic 
town-hall  of  old  Aldborough — once  the  centre 
of  the  vanished  port  and  borough — now  stands 
fronting  the  modern  villas  close  on  the  margin 
of  the  sea.     At  another  point  a  wooden  tower 


of  observation,  crowned  by  the  figure-head  of 
a  wrecked  Russian  vessel,  rises  higii  above  the 
neighboring  houses,  and  discloses  through  ita 
s.'uttle  -  window  grave  men  in  dark  clothing 
seated  on  the  topmost  story  perpetually  ou 
tlie  watch  —  the  pilots  of  Aldborough  looking 
out  from  their  tower  for  ships  in  want  of  help. 
Behind  the  row  of  buildings  thus  cui'iously 
intermingled  runs  the  one  straggling  street  of 
the  town,  with  its  sturdy  pilots'  cottages, 
its  mouldering  marine  storehouses,  and  its  com- 
posite shops.  Toward  the  northern  end  this 
street  is  bounded  by  the  one  eminence  visi- 
ble over  all  the  marshy  flat  —  a  low,  wooded 
iiill  ou  which  the  church  is  built.  At  its  op- 
posite extremity  the  street  leads  to  a  deserted 
martello  tower,  and  to  the  forlorn  outlying 
sul)Uib  of  Slaughden,  between  the  River  Aide 
and  the  sea.  Such  are  the  main  character- 
istics of  this  curious  little  outpost  on  the  shores 
of  England  as  it  appears  at  the  present  time. 

On  a  hot  and  cloudy  July  afternoon,  and 
on  the  second  day  which  had  elapsed  since  he 
had  written  to  Magdalen,  Captain  Wragge 
sauntered  through  the  gate  of  North  Shingles 
Villa  to  meet  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  which 
then  connected  Aldborough  with  the  Eastern 
Counties  Railway,  lie  reached  the  principal 
inn  as  the  coach  drove  up,  and  was  readjr 
at  the  door  to  receive  Magdalen  and  Mrs. 
Wragge  on  their  leaving  the  vehicle.  - 

The  captain's  reception  of  his  wife  was  not 
characterized  by  an  instant's  unnecessary 
waste  of  time.  He  looked  distrustfully  at  her 
shoes^ — raised  himself  on  tip-toe — set  her  bon- 
net straight  for  her  with  a  sharp  tug — said,  in 
a  loud  whisper,  "  hold  your  tongue" — and  left 
her,  for  the  time  being,  without  further  notice. 
Ills  welcome  to  Magdalen,  beginning  with  the 
usual  flow  of  words,  stopped  suddenly  in 
the  middle  of  the  first  sentence.  Captain 
Wragge's  eye  was  a  sharp  one,  and  it  in- 
stantly showed  him  something  in  the  look 
and  manner  of  his  old  pupil  which  denoted  a 
serious  change. 

There  was  a  settled  composure  on  her  face, 
which,  except  when  she  spoke,  made  it  look  as 
still  and  cold  ax  marble.  Her  voice  was  softer 
and  more  equable,  her  eyes  were  steadier,  her 


NO  NAME. 


123 


step  was  slower  than  of  old.  When  she  smiled 
the  smile  came  and  went  siuldenly,  and 
showed  a  little  nervoiw  contraction  on  one 
side  of  her  month  never  visible  there  before. 
She  was  [u-rfectly  patient  with  Mrs.  Wragge  ; 
she  treated  the  captain  with  a  courtesy  and 
consideration  entin-ly  new  in  his  experience 
of  her  —  but  she  was  interested  in  nothing. 
The  curious  little  shops  in  the  back  streets; 
the  high  impending  sea ;  the  old  town-hall  on 
the  beach  ;  the  pilots,  the  fishermen,  the  pass- 
ing ships  —  she  noticed  all  tliesc  objettts  as 
indifferently  as  if  Aldborough  had  been  famil- 
iar to  her  from  her  infancy.  Even  when  tlie 
captain  drew  up  at  the  garden-gate  of  North 
Shinulcs,  and  introduced  her  trimnphantly  to 
the  liew  house,  she  h;\rdly  looked  at  it.  The 
first  question  she  asked  related,  not  to  her  own 
residence,  but  to  Noel  Vanstone's. 

"  How  near  to  us  does  he  live?"  she  inquired, 
with  the  oidy  betrayal  of  emotion  which  had 
escaped  her  yet. 

Captain  \Vragge  answered  by  pointing  to 
the  fifth  villa  from  North  Shingles,  on  the 
Sianglulen  side  of  Aldborongli.  Mag<lalen 
Buddenly  drew  back  from  the  garden-gate  as 
he  indicated  the  situation,  and  walked  away 
by  herself  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of  the 
house. 

Captain  Wragge  hteked  after  her,  and  shook 
his  head  discontentedly.  "  The  devil  take  that 
gentleman  in  the  back-ground,"  lie  thought. 
•'  Siie  lias  not  got  over  the  loss  of  him  yet." 

"  May  I  speak  now  ?"  inquired  a  meek  voice 
behind  him,  articulating  respectfully  ten  inches 
above  the  top  of  his  straw  hat. 

Tlie  captain  turned  round  and  confronted 
his  wife.  The  more  than  ordinary  bewilder- 
ment visible  in  her  face  at  once  suggested  to 
him  that  Magdalen  had  failed  to  carry  out  the 
direitions  in  his  letter,  and  that  Mi's.  Wragge 
had  arrived  at  Aldborough  without  being 
properly  aware  of  the  total  transformation  to 
be  accomplished  in  her  identity  and  her  name. 
Tlie  necessity  of  setting  this  doubt  at  rest  was 
too  serious  to  bi!  trifled  with,  and  Captain 
Wragge  instituted  the  necessary  inquiries  with- 
out a  moment's  delay. 

"  Stand  straight,  and  listen  tome,"  he  began. 
"  I  have  a  que>lion  to  ask  you.  Do  you  know 
■whose  Skill  you  are  in  at  tliis  moment?  I)o 
you  know  that  you  are  dead  and  binied  in 
London,  and  that  you  have  risen  like  a  pha-nix 
from  the  ashes  of  Mrs.  Wragge?  No!  you 
evidently  don't  know  it  This  i.s  pcHectly  dis- 
graceful. What  is  your  name?" 
•  "Matilda,"  answered  Mr.-*.  Wragge,  in  a 
elate  of  the  densest  bewilderment. 

"Nothing  of  fh(;  sort!"  cried  the  captain, 
fiercely.  "  How  dan;  you  t«ll  me  your  name-  's 
Matilda?  Your  name  is  iJulia.  Who  am  I  V 
Hold  that  ba.sket  of  sandwiches  straight,  or  I  il 
pitch  it  into  the  sea."     Who  am  1  V" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  meekly 
taking  refuge  in  the  negative  side  of  the  ques- 
tion this  time. 


"  Sit  down !"  .-'aid  her  husband,  pointing  to 
the  low  garden-wall  of  North  Shingles  Vilhi. 
"  More  to  the  right !  More  still !  That  will  do. 
You  don't  know  V"  repeated  the  captain,  stern- 
ly confronting  his  wife,  as  soon  as  he  had  con- 
trived, by  seating  her,  to  place  her  face  on  a 
level  with  his  own.  "  Don't  let  me  hear  you 
say  that  a  second  time.  Don't  let  me  have  a 
woman  who  doesn't  know  who  I  am  to  operate 
on  my  beard  to-moirow  morning.  Look  at 
me  ?  More  to  the  left — more  still — that  will 
do.  Who  ami?  I 'm  Mr.  Bygrave — Christian 
name,  Thomas.  Who  are  you?  Y'ou  're  Mr* 
Bygrave — Christian  name,  Julia.  Who  is  that 
young  lady  who  travelled  with  you  from  Lon- 
don ?  That  young  lady  is  Miss  Bygrave  — 
Christian  nani(%  Susan.  T  'm  liei'  ch^ver  uncle 
Tom,  and  you  'r(^  her  addle-headed  aunt  Julia. 
Say  it  all  over  to  me  instantly,  like  the  Cate- 
chism !     What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Spare  my  poor  head !"  pleaded  Mrs, 
Wragge.  "  Oh,  please  sj)are  my  poor  head 
till  I  've  got  the  stage-coach  out  of  it !" 

"  Don't  distress  her,"  said  Magdalen,  joining 
them  at  that  moment.  "  She  will  learn  it  in 
time.     Come  into  tire  house." 

Captain  Wragge  shook  his  wary  head  once 
more.  "We  are  beginning  badly,"  he  said, 
with  less  politeness  than  usual."  My  wife's 
stupidity  stands  in  our  way  already." 

'They  went  into  the  house.  Magdalen  was 
perfectly  satisfied  with  all  the  captain's  ar- 
rangements ;  she  accepted  the  room  which  he 
had  set  apart  for  her;  apjiroved  of  the  woman- 
servant  whom  he  had  engaged :  j)resented  her- 
self at  tea-time  the  moment  she  was  sunv 
moned — but  still  showed  no  inten>st  whatever 
in  the  new  scene  around  her.  Soon  after  the 
table  was  cleared,  although  the  daylight  had 
not  yet  faded  out,  Mrs.  Wragge's  customary 
drowsiness  after  fatigue  of  any  kind  overcame 
her;  and  she  received  her  husband's  orders  to 
leave  the  room  (taking  care  that  she  left  it 
"  up  at  heel"),  and  to  betake  herself  (strictly 
in  the  character  of  Mrs.  Bygrave)  to  bed.  As 
soon  as  tlicy  were  left  alone  the  captain  looked 
hard  at  Magdalen,  and  waited  tn  be  spoken  to. 
She  said  nothing.  He  ventured  ne.xt  on  open- 
ing the  conversation  by  a  yiolite  incpiiry  after 
the  state  of  her  health.  "  You  look  fatigued," 
he  remarked,  in  his  most  insinuating  manner. 
"  1  am  afraid  the  journey  has  been  too  much 
for  you.' 

"No,"  she  replied,  looking  out  listlessly 
through  the  window  ;  "  I  am  not  more  tired 
than  usual.  I  am  always  weary  now — weary 
at  going  to  bed  ;  weary  at  getting  up.  If  you 
would  like  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  you 
to-night,  I  am  willing  and  really  to  say  it 
Can't  we  go  out?  It  is  very  hot  here;  and 
the  droning  of  tho.«e  men's  voices  is  beyond 
all  endurance."  She  pointed  through  the  win- 
dow to  a  group  of  boatmen  idling,  as  only 
nautical  men  can  idle,  against  the  garden-wall. 
"  Is  there  no  quiet  walk  in  this  wretched 
place  ?■'  she  asked,  impatiently.     •'  Can't  wb 


124 


NO  NAME. 


breathe  a  little  fresh  air,  and  escape  being 
annoyed  by  strangers  ?" 

"  There  is  perfect  solitude  within  half  an 
hour's  walk  of  the  house,"  replied  the  ready 
captain. 

"  Very  well.     Come  out,  then." 

With  a  weary  sigh  she  took  up  her  straw 
bonnet  and  her  light  muslin  scarf  from  the 
side-table  upon  which  she  had  thrown  them 
on  coming  in,  and  carelessly  led  the  way  to 
the  door.  Captain  Wragge  followed  her  to 
the  garden-gate  —  then  stopped,  struck  by  a 
new  idea. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  whispered,  confidentially. 
"  In  my  wife's  existing  state  of  ignorance  as 
to  who  she  is,  we  had  better  not  trust  lier  alone 
in  the  house  with  a  new  servant.  I  '11  pri- 
Tately  turn  the  key  on  her,  in  case  she  wakes 
before  we  come  back.  Safe  bind,  safe  find  — 
you  know  the  proverb  ! — I  will  be  with  you 
again  in  a  moment." 

He  hastened  back  to  the  house,  and  Mag- 
dalen seated  herself  on  the  garden-wall  to 
await  his  return. 

She  had  hardly  settled  herself  in  that  posi- 
tion when  two  gentlemen  walking  together, 
whose  approach  along  the  public  path  she  had 
not  previously  noticed,  passed  close  by  her. 

The  dress  of  one  of  the  two  strangers  show- 
ed him  to  be  a  clergyman.  His  companion's 
station  in  life  was  less  easily  discernible  to  ordi- 
nary observation.  Practiced  eyes  would  prob- 
ably have  seen  enough  in  his  look,  his  manner, 
and  his  walk  to  show  that  he  was  a  sailor.  He 
was  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life  —  tall,  spare, 
and  muscular  ;  his  face  sun-burned  to  a  deep 
brown;  his  black  hair  just  turning  gray ;  liis 
eyes  dark,  deep,  and  firm — the  eyes  of  a  man 
with  an  iron  resolution  and  a  habit  of  com- 
mand. He  was  the  nearest  of  the  two  to 
Magdalen  as  he  am:!  his  friend  passed  the 
place  where  she  was  sitting;  and  he  looked  at 
her  with  a  sudden  surprise  at  her  beauty,  and 
with  an  open,  hearty,  undisguised  admiration, 
which  was  too  evidently  sincere,  too  evidently 
beyond  his  own  control  to  be  justl}'  resented 
as  insolent — and  yet,  in  her  humor  at  that  mo- 
ment, Magdalen  did  resent  it.  She  felt  the 
man's  resolute  black  eyes  strike  through  her 
■with  an  electric  suddenness ;  and  frowning  at 
him  impatiently,  she  turned  away  her  head 
and  looked  back  at  the  house. 

The  next  moment  she  glanced  round  again 
to  see  if  he  had  gone  on.  He  had  advanced 
.  a  few  yards  —  had  then  evidently  stopped  — 
.  and  was  now  in  the  very  act  of  turning  to 
.  look  at  her  once  more.  His  companion,  the 
clergyman,  noticing  that  Magdalen  appeared 
to  be  annoyed,  took  him  familiarly  by  the 
arm;  and,  half  in  jest,  half  in  earnest,  forced 
him  to  walk  on.  The  two  disappeared  round 
the  corner  of  the  next  house.  As  they  turned 
it  the  suB-burned  sailor  twice  stopped  his  com- 
panion a^ain,  and  twice  looked  back. 

"  A  friend  of  yours  ?"  inquired  Captain 
>  Wragge,  rejoining  Magdalen  at  that  moment. 


"  Certainly  not,"  she  replied  ;  "  a  perfect 
stranger.  He  stared  at  me  in  the  most  im- 
j)ertinent  manner.  Does  he  belong  to  this 
place  ?" 

"  I  '11  find  out  in  a  moment,"  said  the  com- 
pliant captain,  joining  the  group  of  boatmen, 
and  putting  his  questions  right  and  left,  with 
the  easy  familiarity  which  distinguished  him. 
He  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  a  complete 
budget  of  information.  The  clergyman  was 
well  known  as  the  rector  of  a  place  situated 
some  few  miles  inland.  The  dark  man  with 
him  was  his  wife's  brother,  commander  of  a 
ship  in  the  merchant  service.  He  was  sup- 
posed to  be  staying  with  his  relatives,  as  their 
guest  for  a  short  time  only,  preparatory  to 
sailing  on  another  voyage.  The  clergyman's 
name  was  Strickland,  and  the  merchant-cap- 
tain's name  was  Kirke  —  and  that  was  all  the 
boatmen  knew  about  either  of  thein. 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  who  they  are," 
said  Magdalen,  carelessly.  "The  man's  rude- 
ness merely  annoyed  me  for  the  moment.  Let 
us  have  done  with  him.  I  have  something 
else  to  think  of,  and  so  have  you.  Where  is 
the  solitary  walk  you  mentioned  just  now  ? 
Which  way  do  we  go  ?" 

The  captain  pointed  southward,  toward 
Slaugliden,  and  offered  his  arm. 

Magdalen  hesitated  before  she  took  it.  Her 
ejes  wandered  away  inquiringly  to  Noel  Van- 
stone's  house.  He  was  out  in  the  garden, 
pa<'ing  backward  and  forward  over  the  little 
lawn,  with  his  head  high  in  the  air,  and  with 
I\Irs.  I^ecouiit  demureh'  in  attendance  on  him, 
carrying  her  master's  green  fan.  Seeing  this, 
Magdalen  at  once  took  Captain  Wragge's  right 
arm,  so  as  to  place  herself  nearest  to  the  gar- 
den when  they  passed  it  on  their  walk.' 

"  The  eyes  of  our  neighbors  are  on  us;  and 
the  least  your  niece  can  do  is  to  take  your 
arm,"  she  said,  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "  Come  ! 
let  us  go  on  on  !" 

"  They  are  looking  this  way,"  whispered 
the  captain.  "  Shall  I  introduce  you  to  Mrs. 
Lecount  T' 

"Not  to-night,"  she  answered.  "Wait,  and 
hear  wliat  I  have  to  say  to  you  first." 

They  passed  the  garden  -  wall.  Captain 
Wragge  took  off  his  hat  with  a  smart  flourish, 
and  received  a  gracious  bow  from  Mrs.  Le- 
count in  return.  Magdalen  saw  the  house- 
keeper survey  her  face,  her  figure,  and  her 
dress,  with  that  reluctant  interest,  that  dis- 
trustful curiosity,  which  women  feel  in  observ- 
ing each  other.  As  she  walked  on  beyond  the 
house  the  sharp  voice  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstorie 
reached  her  through  the  evening  stillness. 
"  A  fine  girl,  Lecount !"  she  heard  him  say. 
"  You  know  I  am  a  judge  of  that  sort  of  thing 
— a  fine  girl!" 

As  those  words  were  spoken  Captain  Wragge 
looked  round  at  his  companion  in  sudden  sur- 
prise. Her  hand  was  trembling  violently  on 
his  arm,  and  her  lips  were  fast  closed  with  an 
expression  of  speechless  pain. 


NO  NAME. 


125 


Slowly  and  in  silence  the  two  walked  on  ! 
until  they  reached  the  southern  limit  of  the 
houses,  and  entered  on  a  little  wilderness  of 
•hingle  and  withered  grass  —  the  desolate  end 
of  Aldborough,  the  lonely  beginning  of  SlaugliT 
den. 

It  was  a  dull,  airless  evening.  Eastward 
was  the  grav  majesty  of  the  sea,  hushed  in 
l)reathless  calm  —  the  horizon  line  invisibly 
melting  into  the  monotonous,  misty  sky;  the 
idle  ships  shadowy  and  still  on  the  idle  water. 
Southward,  the  high  ridge  of  the  sea-dyke,  and 
the  grim,  massive  circle  of  a  martello  tower, 
reared  high  on  its  mound  of  grass,  closed  the 
view  darkly  on  all  that  lay  beyond.  West- 
ward, a  lurid  streak  of  sunset  glowed  red  \n 
the  dreary  heaven — blackened  th(^  fringing 
trees  on  the  far  borders  of  the  great  inland 
marsh  —  and  turned  its  little  gleaming  water- 
pools  to  pools  of  blood.  Nearer  to  the  eye, 
the  sullen  flow  of  the  tidal  River  Aide  ebbed 
noiselessly  from  the  muddy  l)anks;  and  nearer 
still,  lonely  and  unprosperous  by  the  bleak 
water-side,  lay  the  lost  little  port  of  Slaugh- 
den,  with  its  forlorn  wharfs  and  warehouses  of 
decaying  wood,  and  its  few  scattered  coasting- 
vessels  deserted  on  the  oozy  river-shore.  No 
fall  of  waves  was  heard  on  the  beach ;  no 
trickling  of  waters  bubbled  audibly  from  the 
idle  stream.  Now  and  then  the  cry  of  a  sea- 
bird  rose  from  the  region  of  the  marsh ;  and  at 
intervals,  from  farm-houses  far  in  the  inland 
waste,  the  faint  winding  of  horns  to  call  the 
cattle  home  travelled  mournfully  through  the 
evening  calm. 

Magdalen  drew  her  hand  from  the  captain's 
arm,  and  led  the  way  to  the  mound  of  the 
martello  tower.  "  I  am  weary  of  walking," 
she  said.     "  Let  us  stop  and  rest  here." 

She  seated  herself  on  the  slope,  and,  resting 
on  her  elbow,  mechanically  pulled  up  and  scat- 
tered from  hflfr  into  the  air  the  tufts  of  grass 
growing  under  her  hand.  After  silently  occu- 
pying herself  in  this  way  for  some  minutes,  she 
turned  .suddenly  on  Captain  Wragge.  "  Do  I 
surprise  you?"  she  asked,  with  a  startling 
abruptness.     "  Do  you  find  me  changed  ?" 

The  captain's  read}'  tact  warned  him  that 
the  time  had  come  to  be  plain  with  her,  and  to 
reserve  his  flowers  of  speech  for  a  more  appro- 
priate occasion. 

"If  you  ask  the  rjuestion  I  must  answer  it," 
he  replied.     "Yes;  I  do  find  you  changed." 

She  pulled  up  another  tuft  of  grass.  "I 
Jiuppose  you  can  guess  the  reason  ?"  she  said. 

The  captain  was  wisely  silent.  He  only 
answered  by  a  bow. 

"  I  have  lost  all  care  for  myself,"  she  went 
on,  tearing  faster  and  faster  at  the  tufts  of 
grass.  "  Saying  that  is  not  saying  much,  per- 
haps; but  it  may  help  you  to  understand  me. 
There  are  things  I  would  have  ilied  sooner 
than  do,  at  one  time  —  things  it  would  have 
Uirncd  me  cold  to  think  of.  1  don't  care  now 
whether  I  do  them  or  not.  I  am  nothing  to 
my.self;  I  am  no  more  interested  in   myself 


than  I  am  in  these  handfuls  of  gra.ss.     I  sup- 

Sose  I  have  lost  something.  What  is  it? 
[eart?  Conscience?  I  don't  know.  Do 
you  ?  What  nonsense  T  am  talking !  Who 
cares  what  I  have  lost  ?  It  has  gone ;  and 
there  's  an  end  of  it.  I  supjiosc  my  outside  is 
the  best  side  of  me,  and  that 's  left  at  any  rate. 
I  have  not  lost  my  good  looks,  have  I  ?  There, 
there!  never  mind  answering;  don't  trouble 
yourself  to  ]>ay  nie  compliments.  I  have  been 
admireil  enough  to-day.  First  the  sailor,  and 
then  ^Ir.  Noel  Vanstone — enough  for  any  wo- 
man's vanity,  surely  !  Have  I  any  right  to 
call  myself  a  woman?  Perhaps  not;  I  am 
only  a  girl  in  my  teens.  Oh  me,  I  feel  as  if  I 
was  tbrty  !"  She  scattered  the  last  fragments 
of  grass  to  the  winds;  anrl,  turning  her  t)ack 
on  the  captain,  let  her  head  drop  till  her  cheek 
touched  the  turf  bank.  "It  feels  soft  and 
friendly,"  she  said,  nestling  to  it  with  a  hope- 
less tenderness  horribh^  to  see.  "  It  doesn't 
cast  me  off.  Mother  Earth  I  The  only  mother 
I  have  left !" 

Captain  Wragge  looked  at  her  in  silent  sur- 
prise. Such  experience  of  humanity  as  he 
possessed  was  powerless  to  sound  to  its  depths 
the  terrible  self-abaudoinnent  which  had  burst 
its  way  to  the  surface  in  her  reckless  words — 
which  was  now  fast  hurrying  her  to  actions 
more  reckless  still.  "Devilish  odd  !"  he  thought 
to  himself,  uneasily.  "  Has  the  loss  of  her 
lover  turned  her  brain  ?"  He  considered  for 
a  minute  longer,  and  then  spoke  to  her.  "Leave 
it  till  to-morrow,"  suggested  the  captain,  con- 
fidentially. "  You  are  a  little  tired  to-night. 
No  hurry,  my  dear  girl,  no  hurry." 

She  raised  her  head  instantly,  and  looked 
round  at  him  with  the  sann^  angry  resolution, 
with  the  same  desjieratc  defiance  of  herself, 
which  he  had  seen  in  her  face  on  the  memora- 
ble (lay  at  York  when  she  had  acted  before 
him  for  the  first  time.  "  I  came  here  to  tell 
you  what  is  in  my  mind,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will 
tell  it!"  She  seated  iiersclf  upright  on  the 
slope,  and, clasping  her  hands  roun<l  her  knees, 
looked  out  steadily,  straight  before  her,  at  the 
slowly  darkening  view.  In  that  strange  posi- 
tion she  waited  until  she  had  compo.sed  herself; 
and  then  addressed  the  captain,  without  turn- 
ing her  head  to  look  round  at  him, in  these 
words  : 

"  When  you  and  I  first  met,"  she  began, 
abruptly,  "I  tried  hard  to  keep  my  thoughts 
to  myself  I  know  enough  by  this  time  to 
know  that  I  failed.  When  I  first  told  you  at 
York  that  Michael  Vanstone  had  ruined  us,  I 
believe  vou  gues-ted  for  yourself  that  I,  for  one, 
was  determined  not  to  submit  to  it.  Whether 
you  guessed  or  not,  it  is  so.  I  left  my  friends 
with  that  determination  in  my  mind ;  and  I 
feel  it  in  me  now  stronger,  ten  times  stronger, 
than  ever.' 

"  Ten  times  stronger  than  ever,"  echoed  the 
captain.  "  Exactly  so  —  the  natural  result  of 
firmness  of  eharar^ter." 

"  No ;  the  natural  re^iult  of  having  nothing 


126 


NO  NAME. 


else  to  think  of.  T  had  something  else  to  think 
of  before  you  found  me  ill  in  Vauxhall  Walk. 
I  have  nothing  else  to  think  of  now.  Remem- 
ber that,  if  you  find  me  for  the  future  always 
harping  on  the  same  string.  One  question 
first.  Did  you  guess  what  I  meant  to  do  on 
that  morning  when  you  showed  me  the  news- 
paper, and  when  I  read  the  account  of  iMiehael 
Vanstone's  death  ?" 

"  Generally,"  re])Iied  Captain  AVragge — "  I 
guessed,  gonerally,  that  you  proposed  dippinrr 
your  hand  into  his  purse,  and  taking  from  it 
(most  properly)  what  was  your  own.  I  felt 
deeply  hurt  at  the  time  by  your  not  permitting 
me  to  assist  you.  Why  is  ^he  so  reserved  with 
me  ?  (I  remarked  to  myself)  —  whj'  is  she  so 
unreasonably  r.^servedV" 

"  You  shall  have  no  reserve  to  complain  of 
now,"  pursued  Magdalen.  "  I  tell  you  plainly 
—  if  events  had  not  happened  as  they  did, 
you  ivoulff  have  assisted  me.  If  Michael  Van- 
stone  had  not  died  I  should  have  gone  to 
Brighton,  and  have  found  my  way  safely  to 
his  acquaintance  under  an  assumed  name.  I 
had  money  enough  with  me  to  live  on  re- 
spectably lor  many  months  together.  I  would 
have  employed  that  time,  I  would  have  Avaited 
a  whole  year  if  necessary,  to  destroy  Mrs. 
Lecount's  influence  over  him,  and  I  would 
have  ended  by  getting  that  influence,  on  my 
own  terms,  into  my  own  hands.  I  had  the 
advantage  of  years,  the  advantage  of  novelty, 
the  advantage  of  downi-ight  desperation  all 
on  my  side,  and  I  should  have  succeeded. 
Before  the  year  was  out  —  before  half  the 
year  was  out  —  you  should  have  seen  Mrs. 
Lecount  dismissed  hy  her  master,  and  you 
shoidd  have  seen  me  taken  into  the  iiouse, 
in  her  place,  as  Michael  Vanstone's  adopted 
daughter — as  the  faithful  friend  who  had  saved 
him  from  an  adventuress  in  his  old  age.  Girls 
no  older  than  I  am  have  tried  deceptions  as 
hopeless  in  appearance  as  mine,  and  have 
carried  them  through  to  the  end.  I  had  my 
story  ready ;  1  had  my  plans  all  considered; 
I  had  the  weak  point  in  that  old  man  to  attack 
in  my  way,  which  Mrs.  Leconnt  had  found 
out  before  me  to  attack  in  hers  —  and  I  tell 
you  again  I  should  have  succeeded." 

"  I  think  you  would,"  said  the  captain. 
"  And  what  next  ?" 

"  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  would  have  chang- 
ed his  man  of  business  next.  You  would  have 
succeeded  to  the  place ;  and  those  clever 
speculations  on  which  he  was  so  fond  of  ven- 
turing would  have  cost  him  the  fortunes  of 
which  he  had  robbed  my  sister  and  myself. 
To  the  last  farthing.  Captain  Wragge  —  as 
certainly  as  you  sit  there,  to  the  last  farthing  ! 
A  bold  conspiracy,  a  shocking  deception  — 
wasn't  it.  I  don't  care !  Any  conspiracy, 
any  deception  is  justified  to  my  conscience 
by  the  vile  law  which  has  left  us  helpless. 
You  talked  of  my  reserve  just  now.  Have  I 
dropped  it  at  last?  Have  I  spoken  out  at 
the  eleventh  hour  ?" 


The  captain  laid  his  hand  solemnly  on  his 
heart,  and  launched  himself  once  more  on  his 
broadest  fiow  of  language. 

"  You  fill  me  with  unavailing  regret,"  he 
said.  "  If  that  old  man  had  lived,  what  a 
crop  I  might  have  reaped  from  him  !  What 
enormous  transactions  in  moral  agriculture  it 
might  have  been  my  privilege  to  carry  on  I 
Ars  Innga"  said  Captain  Wragge,  patheti- 
caily  drifting  into  Latin. —  '■^  vita  breois  !  Let 
us  drop  a  tear  on  the  lost  opportunities  of  the 
past,  and  try  what  the  present  can  do  to  con- 
sole, us.  One  conclusion  is  clear  to  my  mind. 
The  experiment  you  proposed  to  try  with  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone  is  totally  hopeless,  my  dear 
girl,  in  the  ease  of  his  son.  His  son  is  im- 
pervious to  all  ordinary  forms  of  pecuniary 
temptation.  You  may  trust  my  solemn  assur- 
ance," continued  the  captain,  speaking  with 
an  indignant  recollection  of  the  answer  to  his 
advertisement  in  the  Times,  "  when  I  inform 
you  that  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  is  emphatically 
the  meanest  of  mankind." 

'■  I  can  trust  my  own  experience  as  well," 
said  Magdalen.  "  I  have  seen  him  and  spoken 
to  him  —  I  know  him  better  than  you  do. 
Another  disclosure.  Captain  Wragge,  for  your 
private  ear  !  I  sent  you  back  certain  articles 
of  costume  —  when  they  had  served  the  pur- 
pose for  which  I  took  tiiem  to  London.  That 
purpose  was  to  find  my  way  to  Noel  Vanstone 
in  disguise,  and  to  judge  for  myself  of  Mrs. 
Lecount  and  her  master.  I  gained  my  ob- 
ject ;  and  I  tell  you  again,  I  know  the  two 
people  in  that  house  yonder,  whom  we  have 
now  to  deal  with,  better  than  you  do." 

Captain  Wragge  expressed  the  profound 
astonishment  and  asked  the  innocent  ques- 
tions appropriate  to  the  mental  condition  of  a 
person  taken  completely  by  surprise. 

"  Well,"  he  resumed,  when  Magdalen  had 
briefly  answered  him  ;  "  and  what  is  the  result 
on  your  own  mind  ?  There  must  be  a  result, 
or  we  should  not  be  here.  You  see  your 
way  ?  Of  course,  my  dear  girl,  you  see  your 
way  '?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  quickly  ;  "  I  see  my  way." 

The  captain  drew  a  little  nearer  to  her, 
with  eager  curiosity  expressed  in  every  line 
of  his  vagabond  face. 

'*  Go  on,"  he  said,  in  an  anxious  whisner; 
"  P''^y  go  on." 

She  looked  out  thoughtfully  into  tht  gath- 
ering darkness  without  answering,  without 
appearing  to  have  heard  him.  Her  lips  closed, 
and  her  clasped  hands  tighteaed  mechanically 
round  her  knees. 

'•  Tliere  is  no  disguising  the  fact,"*  said  Cap- 
tain Wragge,  warily  rousing  her  into  speaking 
to  him.  "  The  son  is  hardvsr  to  deal  with  than 
the  father — " 

"  Not  in  my  way, '  she  interposed,  suddenly. 

"  Indeed  !"  said  the  captain.  "  Well !  they 
say  there  is  a  short  cut  to  everything,  if  we 
only  look  long  enough  to  find  it.  You  have 
looked  long  enough,  I  suppose ;  and  the  natu- 


NO  NAME. 


127 


ral  result  has  followed — you  have  found  it." 

"I  have  not  t7-ouhlcd  myself  to  look;  I 
have  found  it  without  lookinjr.' 

"The  deuce  jou  have!"  cried  Captain 
Wra<!ge,  in  trreat  perplexity.  "  My  dear  jjirl, 
is  my  view  of  your  ])i-esent  position  leading 
me  altogether  astray  ?  As  i  understand  it, 
here  is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  in  po.ssession  of 
j-our  fortune  and  your  sister's,  as  his  father 
was — and  determined  to  keep  it,  as  his  father 
Avas  V" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  here  are  you  — quite  hel])loss  to  get 
it  by  jM-nsuasiou  ;  (juite  helpless  to  get  it  by 
law — just  as  resolute  in  his  case  as  you  were 
in  Ills  father's  to  take  it  by  stratagem  in  s]Mte 
of  him  ?'' 

"  Just  as  resolute.  Not  for  the  sake  of 
the  fortune — mind  that!  For  the  sake  of  the 
right." 

"  Just  so.  And  the  means  of  coining  at 
that  right,  which  were  hard  with  the  father — 
who  was  not  a  miser  —  are  easy  with  the  son, 
who  is  ?" 

"  Perfectly  easy." 

"  Write  me  down  an  Ass  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  !"  cried  the  captain,  at  th.e  end  of 
his  patience.  "  Hang  me  if  I  know  what 
you  mean  !" 

"  She  looked  round  at  him  for  the  first 
time  —  looked  him  straight  and  steadily  in  the 
face. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  moan,"  she  said ;  "  I 
mean  to  marry  him." 

Captain  Wragge  started  up  on  his  knees, 
and  stopjied  on  them,  jietrified  by  astouish- 
mcnt. 

*'  Remember  what  I  told  you,"  said  Magda- 
len, looking  away  liom  him  again.  "I  have 
lost  all  cai'e  for  myself  I  have  only  one  end 
in  life  now,  and  the  .sooner  I  reach  it  —  and 
die — the  better.  If — "  She  stopped,  altered 
her  ])osiiio»  a  little,  and  pointed  with  one 
hand  to  the  fast-ebbing  stream  beneath  her, 
gleaming  dim  in  the  darkening  twiliglu  —  "if 
I  had  been  what  I  once  was,  I  would  have 
thrown  myself  into  that  river  sooner  than  do 
Avhat  I  am  going  to  do  now.  As  it  is,  I  trouble 
myself  no  longer;  I  weary  my  mind  with  no 
more  sclu-mes.  Tlic  short  way,  and  the  vile 
way,  Vie^  before  me.  I  take  it.  Captain 
Wragge — and  marry  him." 

"  Keeping  him  in  total  ignorance  of  who 
you  are  V"  said  the  captain,  slowly  rising  to 
his  feet,  and  slowly  moving  round  so  as  to  .sec 
her  face.  "  Marrying  him  as  my  niece — Miss 
Hygrave  V 

"  A.S  your  niece,  Miss  Bygrave." 

"  And  after  the  marriage?"  His  voice  fal- 
tered as  he  began  the  question,  and  he  left  it 
unfinished. 

"  After  the  marriage,"  ihc  said,  "  I  shall 
Btand  in  no  further  nee<lofyour  assistance." 

The  captain  stooped  as  she  gave  liim  that 
answer,  looked  close  at  her,  and  suddenly 
drew    back    without    uttering    a    word.     He 


walked  away  some  paces,  an<l  sat  down  again 
lioggedly  on  the  grass,  li'  JMagdalen  could 
have  seen  his  face  in  the  dying  light,  his  face 
would  have  startled  her.  For  the  first  time, 
probably,  since  his  boyhood  Captain  Wragge 
had  changed  color.     He  was  deadly  pale. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  mt>  ?"  she 
asked.  "Perhaps  you  are  waiting  to  hear 
what  terms  I  have  to  oiler?  These  are  my 
terms.  I  j)ay  all  our  expenses  here ;  and 
when  we  part,  on  the  day  of  the  marriage, 
}on  take  a  farewell  gift  away  with  you  of  two 
hundred  pounds.  Do  you  promise  nu;  your 
assistance  on  those  conditions?" 

"What  am  I  expected  to  do?"  he  asked, 
with  a  furtive  look  at  her,  and  a  sudden  dis- 
trust in  his  voice. 

"  You  are  expected  to  preserve  my  assunu;d 
character  and  your  own," she  answered;  "and 
you  are  to  prevent  any  intpiii-ies  of  JMrs.  Le- 
count's  from  discovering  who  I  really  am.  I 
ask  no  more.  The  r(>st  is  my  responsibility, 
not  yours. ' 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  what  happens  — 
at  any  time  or  in  any  ])\:\cc.  —  after  tlie  mar- 
riage V" 

"  Nothing  whatever." 

"I  may  leave  you  at  the  church-door,  if  I 
please  ?" 

"  At  the  church-door,  with  your  fee  in  your 
pocket." 

"  Paid  from  the  money  in  }our  own  pos- 
session ?" 

"  Certainly  !     How  else  should  I  pay  it  ?" 

Captain  ^V'^ragge  took  oif  his  hat,  and  jjassed 
his  handkerchief  over  his  face  with  an  air  of 
relief 

"  Give  me  a  minute  to  consider  it,"  lu;  said. 

"  As  many  minutes  as  you  like,"  she  re- 
joined, reclining  on  the  bank  in  her  former 
position,  and  rt;turning  to  her  former  oci-upa- 
tion  of  tearing  up  the  tufts  of  grass  and  fling- 
ing them  out  into  the  air. 

The  captain's  reflections  were  not  compli- 
cated by  any  nnnece.'^sary  divergencies  from 
the  contemplation  of  his  own  position  to  the 
contemplation  of  Magdalcn'.s.  I'tlerly  inca- 
])able  of  appreciating  tin;  injury  done  iier  by 
Fi'ank's  infamous  treai'hery  to  his  engage- 
ment—  an  injury  which  had  severed  her  at 
one  cruel  blow  from  the  aspiration  Aviiich,  de- 
lusion though  it  was,  had  been  tlie  saving 
aspiration  ot  her  life — Captain  Wragge  ac- 
eej)ted  the  simple  fact  of  her  despair  just  as  ho 
found  it,  and  tiien  looked  straight  to  the  con- 
se(piences  of  the  proposal  which  she  had  mado 
to  liim. 

In  the  jirospect  before  the  marriage  he  saw 
nothing  more  serious  involved  than  the  prac- 
tice of  a  deception,  in  no  important  degree 
diflerent — except  in  the  end  to  be  attained  by 
it — from  the  deceptions  which  Wm  vagabond 
life  had  long  since  accustomed  him  to  contem- 
plate and  to  carry  out.  In  the  prospect  u/irr 
ihe  marriage  he  dimly  discerned,  through  tlio 


128 


NO  NAME. 


ominous  darknctis  of  tlie  future,  the  lurking 
phantoms  of  Terror  and  Crime,  and  the  black 
gulfs  behind  them  of  Ruin  and  Death.  A 
man  of  boundless  audacity  and  resource  witliiu 
his  own  mean  limits,  beyond  those  limits  the 
captain  was  as  deferentially  submissive  to  the 
majesty  of  the  law  as  the  most  harmless  man 
in  existence;  as  cautious  in  looking  after  liis 
own  personal  safety  as  the  veriest  coward  that 
ever  walked  the  earth.  But  one  serious  ques- 
tion now  filled  his  mind.  Could  he,  on  the 
terms  proposed  to  him,  join  the  conspiracy 
against  Noel  Vanstone  up  to  the  point  of  the 
marriage,  and  then  withdraw  from  it,  without 
risk  of  involving  himself  in  the  consequences 
which  his  experience  told  him  must  certainly 
ensue  ? 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  decision  In  this 
emergency  was  mainly  influenced  by  no  less  a 
person  than  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  himself.  The 
captain  might  have  resisted  the  money-offer 
which  Magdalen  had  made  to  him  —  for  the 
profits  of  the  Entertainment  had  filled  his 
pockets  with  more  than  three  times  two  hun- 
dred pounds.  But  the  prospect  of  dealing  a 
blow  in  the  dark  at  the  man  who  had  esti- 
mated his  information  and  himself  at  the  value 
of  a  five-pound  note  proved  too  much  for  his 
cai  tion  and  his  self-control.  On  the  small 
neutral  ground  of  self-importance  the  best 
men  and  the  worst  meet  on  the  same  terms. 
Captain  Wragge's  indignation  when  he  saw 
the  answer  to  his  advertisement  stooped  to  no 
retrospective  estimate  of  his  own  conduct : 
he  was  as  deeply  offended,  as  sincerely  angry, 
as  if  he  had  made  a  perfectly  honorable 
proposal,  and  had  been  rewarded  for  It  by 
a  personal  Insult.  He  had  been  too  full  of 
his  own  grievance  to  keep  It  out  of  his  first 
letter  to  Alagdalen.  He  had  more  or  less  for- 
gotten himself  on  every  subsequent  occasion 
when  Noel  Vanstone's  name  was  mentioned. 
And,  in  now  finally  deciding  the  course  he 
should  take,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
motive  of  money  receded,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  Into  the  second  place,  and  the  motive 
of  malice  carried  the  day. 

"I  accept  the  terms,"  said  Captain  Wragge, 
getting  briskly  on  his  legs  again.  "  Subject, 
of  course,  to  the  conditions  agreed  on  between 
us.  We  part  on  the  wedding-day.  I  don't 
ask  where  you  go :  you  don't  ask  where  I  go. 
From  that  time  forth  we  are  strangers  to  each 
other." 

Magdalen  rose  slowly  from  the  mound.  A 
hopeless  depression,  a  sullen  despair,  showed 
Itself  in  her  look  and  manner.  She  refused 
the  captain's  offered  hand ;  and  her  tones, 
when  she  answered  him,  were  so  low  that  he 
could  hardly  hear  her. 

"  We  understand  each  other,"  she  said ; 
•'  and  we  can  now  go  back.  Yon  may  intro- 
(iuce  me  to  Mrs.  Lecount  to-morrow ! " 

" I  must  ask  a  few  questions  first,'  said  the 
captain,  gravely.     *'  There  are  more  risks  to 


I  be  run  in  this  matter,  and  more  pitfalls  in  our 
j  way,  than  you  seem  to  suppose.  I  must  know 
i  the  whole  history  of  your  morning  call  on  Mrs. 
i  Lecount  before  I  put  you  and  that  woman  on 
j  speaking  terms  with  each  other." 
j  "  Wait  till  to-morrow,"  she  broke  out,  Im- 
'  patiently.  •'  Don't  madden  me  by  talking 
!  about  it  to-night." 

j  The  captain  said  no  more.  They  turned 
!  their  faces  toward  Aldborough,  and  walked 
i  slowly  back. 

I  By  the  time  they  reached  the  houses  night 
I  had  overtaken  them.  Neither  moon  nor  stars 
were  visible.  A  faint,  noiseless  breeze,  blow- 
ing from  the  land,  had  come  with  the  dark- 
ness. Magdalen  paused  on  the  lonely  public 
walk  to  breathe  the  air  more  freely.  After  a 
while  she  turned  her  face  from  the  breeze  and 
looked  out  toward  the  sea.  The  immeasura- 
ble silence  of  the  calm  waters,  lost  in  the 
black  void  of  night,  was  awful.  She  stood 
looking  into  the  darkness,  as  if  Its  mystery  had 
no  secrets  for  her  —  she  advanced  toward  it 
slowly,  as  if  it  drew  her  by  some  hidden  at- 
traction into  Itself. 

••  I  am  going  down  to  the  sea,"  she  said  to 
her  companion.  "  Wait  here,  and  I  will  coma 
back." 

He  lost  sight  of  her  In  an  instant  —it  was  as 
if  the  night  had  swallowed  her  up.  He  listen- 
ed, and  counted  her  footsteps  by  the  crashing 
of  them  on  the  shingle  in  the  deep  stillness. 
They  retreated  slowly,  farther  and  farther 
away  into  the  night.  Suddenly  the  sound  of 
them  ceased.  Had  she  paused  on  her  course '? 
or  had  she  reached  one  of  the  strips  of  sand 
left  bare  by  the  ebbing  tide '? 

He  waited  and  listened  anxiously.  The 
time  passed,  and  no  sound  reached  him.  He 
still  listened  with  a  growing  distrust  of  the 
darkness.  Another  moment,  and  there  came 
a  sound  from  the  invisible  shore.  Far  and 
faint  from  the  beach  below,  a  long  cry  moaned 
through  the  silence.  Then  all  was  still  once 
more. 

In  sudden  alarm  he  stepped  forward  to  de- 
scend to  the  beach  and  to  call  her.  Before  he 
could  cross  the  path  footsteps  rapidly  advanc- 
ing caught  his  ear.  He  waited  an  instant,  and 
the  figure  of  a  man  passed  quickly  along  the 
walk  between  him  and  the  sea.  It  was  too 
dark  to  discern  anything  of  the  stranger's 
face ;  It  was  only  possible  to  see  that  he  was  a 
tall  man,  as  tall  as  that  officer  in  the  merchant 
service  whose  name  was  Kirke. 

The  figure  passed  on  northward  and  was 
instantly  lost  to  view.  Captain  Wragge  cross- 
ed the  path,  and  advancing  a  few  steps  down 
the  beach  stopped  and  listened  again.  The 
crash  of  footsteps  on  the  shingle  caught  his 
ear  once  more.  Slowly  as  the  sound  had  left 
him  that  sound  now  came  back.  He  called  to 
guide  her  to  him.  She  came  on  till  he  could 
just  see  her — a  shadow  ascending  the  shingly 
slope,  and  growing  out  of  the  blackness  of  the 
night. 


NO  NAME. 


120 


"  You  alarmed  me,"  he  whispered,  nervous- 
ly. "  I  was  afraid  something:  had  happened. 
I  heard  you  cry  out,  as  it'  you  were  in  pain." 

"  Did  you  ?"  she  said,  carelessly,  "  I  rcas  in 
pain.     It  doesn't  matter — it  's  over  now." 

Her  hand  meclianically  swunsr  somethinj;  to 
and  fro  as  she  answered  iiiui.  It  was  the  little 
white  silk  basr  wliich  slie  had  always  kept  hid- 
den in  her  bosom  up  to  tliis  time.  One  of  the 
relics  which  it  lield  — one  of  the  relics  which 
she  had  not  had  the  lU'art  to  part  with  before 
— was  !>one  from  its  keepin;j  for  ever.  Alone 
on  a  strange  shore,  she  Iiad  torn  from  her  the 
fondest  of  lier  vir^jin  memories,  the  di'arest  of 
her  virgin  hopes.  Alone  on  a  strange  shore, 
she  had  taken  the  lock  of  Frank's  hair  Irom 
its  once-treasured  place,  and  had  cast  it  away 
from  her  to  the  sea  and  the  night. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  tall  man  wlio  had  passed  Captain 
Wragge  in  the  dark  ))roceed('d  rapidly  along 
tlic  public  walk,  struck  off  across  a  little  waste 
patcli  of  ground,  and  entered  the  open  door  of 
the  Aldborough  Hotel.  The  light  in  the  pas- 
sage, falling  full  on  his  face  as  he  passed  it, 
proved  the  truth  of  Captain  Wragge's  sur- 
mise, and  showed  the  stranger  to  be  Mr. 
Kirke,  of  the  merchant  service. 

]\Iccting  the  landlord  in  the  p;issage,  ]\Ir. 
Kirke  nodded  to  him  with  the  familiarity  of 
an  old  customer.  "  Have  you  got  the  paper  V" 
he  asked:  "I  want  to  look  at  the  visitors' 
list." 

"  I  have  got  it  in  mv  room.  Sir,"  said  the 
landlord,  leading  the  w,iy  into  a  parlor  at  the 
ba(;k  of  the  house.  "  Are  there  any  friends 
of  yours  staying  here,  do  you  think  V" 

AVithout  replying,  the  seaman  turned  to  the 
list,  as  soon  as  the  newspaper  was  placed  in 
his  hand,  and  ran  his  finger  down  it  name  by 
name.  The  finger  suddenly  stopped  at  this 
line;  "  Sea- View  Cottage;  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone." 
Kirke,  of  the  merchant  service,  repeated  the 
name  to  himself,  and  put  down  the  paper 
thoughtfully. 

"  Have  you  found  anybody  you  know,  cap- 
tain y  asked  the  landlord. 

I  have  i'ound  a  name  I  know  —  a  name  my 
father  used  often  to  speak  of  in  his  time.  Is 
this  Mr.  Vanstone  a  family  man  ?  Do  you 
know  if  there  is  a  young  lady  in  the  house  ?" 

"  I  can't  .say.  captain.  My  wife  will  be  here 
directly:  she  is  sure  to  know.  It  must  have 
been  some  time  ago,  if  your  father  knew  thi.s 
Mr.  Vanstone  ".•'" 

"  It  was  some  time  ago.  M)'  father  knew  a 
subaltern  officer  of  that  name  when  lie  was 
with  his  regiment  in  Canada.  It  would  be 
curious  if  the  person  here  turned  out  to  be 
the  same  man,  and  if  that  young  lady  was  his 
daughter." 

"Itixcuse  mc,  captain  ;  but  the  young  lady 
17 


seems  to  hang  a  little  on  your  mind,"  said  the 
landlord,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  as  if  the  form  which  his 
host's  good  humor  had  just  taken  was  not 
quite  to  his  mind.  He  turned  abruptly  to  the 
subaltern  officer  and  the  regiment  in  Canada. 
"  That  poor  fellow's  story  was  as  miserable  a 
one  as  ever  I  heard,"  he  said,  looking  back 
again  absently  at  the  visitors'  list. 

"  Would  there  be  any  harm  in  telling  it. 
Sir?"  asked  the  landlord.  '•  Miserable  or  not 
—  a  story  's  a  story,  when  you  know  it  to  be 
true." 

Mr.  Kirke  hesitateil.  "  I  hardly  think  I 
should  be  doing  right  to  tell  it,"  he  said.  "  If 
this  man  or  any  relations  of  his  are  still  alive, 
it  is  not  a  story  they  might  like  strangers  to 
know.  All  I  can  tell  you  is  that  my  father 
was  the  salvation  of  that  young  officer  under 
very  dreadful  circumstances.  They  parted  in 
Canada.  My  father  remained  with  his  regi- 
ment; the  young  officer  sold  out  and  returned 
to  England ;  and  from  that  moment  they  lost 
sight  of  each  other.  It  would  be  cui-ious  if 
this  Vanstone  here  was  the  same  man.  It 
would  be  curious — " 

He  suddenly  checked  himself,  just  as  an- 
other reference  to  "  the  young  lady  "  was  on 
the  point  of  passing  his  lips.  At  the  same 
moment  the  landlord's  Avile  came  in, .and  Mr. 
Kirke  at  once  transferred  his  inquiries  to  the 
higher  authority  in  the  house. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  this  Mr.  Van- 
stone who  is  down  here  on  the  visitors'  list?" 
asked  the  sailor.     "  Is  he  an  old  man  ?" 

"  He  's  a  miserable  little  creature  to  look 
at,"  rei)lied  the  landlady  ;  "  but  he  's  not  old, 
captain  !" 

"  Then  he  is  not  the  man  I  mean.  Perhaps 
he  is  the  man's  son  ?  Has  he  got  any  ladies 
with  him  ?" 

•     'The  landlady  tossed  her  head,  and  pursed 
up  her  lips  disparagingly. 

"  He  has  a  housekeeper  with  him,"  she 
said  ;  "  a  middle-aged  person — not  one  of  my 
sort.  I  dare  say  I  'm  wrong;  but  I  don't  like 
a  dressy  woman  in  her  station  of  life." 

Mr.  kirke  began  to  look  puzzled.  "  I  must 
have  made  sonic  mistake  about  the  house,"  ho 
said.  "  Surely,  there  's  a  lawn  cut  octagon- 
shape  at  Sea-View  Cottage,  and  a  white  flag>- 
stalf  in  the  middle  of  the  gravel-walk  ?" 

"That  's  not  Sea-View,  Sir!  It's  North 
Shingles  you  're  talking  of — Mr.  Bygrave'.«. 
His  wife  and  his  niece  came  here  by  the  coach 
to-day.  His  wife,  's  tall  enough  to  be  put  in  a 
show,  and  the  worst-dressed  woman  I  ever  set 
eyes  on.  But  Miiis  Bygrave  is  worth  looking 
at,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so.  She  's  the 
finest  girl,  to  my  mind,  we  've  had  at  Aldbor- 
ough for  many  a  long  day.  I  wonder  who 
they  are  I     Do  you  know  the  name,  captain  ?" 

"  No,"  .said  ]\Ir.  Kirke,  witli  a  shade  of  dis- 
appointment on  his  dark,  weather-beaten  face; 
'•  I  never  heard  the  name  before." 

After  replying  in  those  wordi  he  ro»e  to 


130 


NO  NAME. 


taku  his  leave.  The  landlord  vainly  invited 
liim  to  drink  a  parting  glass;  the  landlady 
vainly  pressed  him  to  ytay  another  ten  min- 
ntes,  and  try  a  cup  of  tea.  He  only  replied 
tha^  bis  sister  expected  him,  and  that  he  must 
leturn  to  the  parsonage  immediately. 

On  leaving  the  hotel,  Mr.  Kirke  set  his 
face  westward,  and  walked  inland  along  the 
high-road  as  fast  as  the  darkness  would  let 
him. 

"Bygrave?"  he  thought  to  himself.  "Now 
I  know  her  name,  how  much  am  I  the  wiser  lor 
it !  If  it  had  been  Yanstone,  my  father's  son 
might  have  had  a  chance  of  making  acquaint- 
ance with  her."  He  stopped  and  looked  back 
in  the  direction  of  Aldborough.  "What  a  tool 
I  am!"  he  burst  out  suddetdy,  striking  his 
stick  on  the  ground.  "  I  was  Ibrty  last  birth- 
day." He  turned,  and  went  on  again  faster 
than  ever — his  head  down,  his  resolute  black 
eyes  searching  the  darkness  on  the  land  as 
they  had  searched  it  many  a  time  on  the  sea 
from  the  deck  of  his  ship.  • 

After  more  than  an  hour's  walking,  he 
reached  a  village,  with  a  primitive  little  church 
and  jjarsonage  nestled  together  in  a  hollow. 
11?  entered  the  house  by  the  back  Avay,  and 
found  his  sister,  the  clergyman's  wife,  sitting 
alone  over  h<ir  work  in  tlie  parlor. 

"  AVhere  is  your  husband,  Lizzie?"  he 
asked,  taking  a  chair  in  a  corner. 

"  William  lias  gone  out  to  see  a  sick  person. 
He  hail  just  time  enough  before  he  went,' 
she  added,  with  a  smile,  "to  tell  me  about  the 
young  lady;  and  he  declares  he  will  never 
trust  himself  at  Aldborough  with  you  again 
until  you  are  a  steady  married  man."  Slie 
stopped  and  looked  at  her  brother  more  at- 
tentively than  she  had  looked  at  him  j-et. 
"KobertI"  she  said,  laying  aside  her  work, 
and  suddenly  crossing  the  room  to  him— "you 
look  an.xious,  you  look  distressed.  William 
only  laughed  about  your  meeting  with  the 
joung  lady.  Is  it  serious?  Tell  me  what  is 
she  like  ?" 

He  turned  his  head  away  at  the  question. 

She  took  a  stool  at  his  feet,  and  persisted  in 
looking  up  at  him.  "Is  it  serious,  Robert ?  " 
she  repeated,  softly. 

Kirke's  weather-beaten  face  was  accustom- 
ed to  no  concealments  —  it  answered  for  him 
before  he  spoke  a  •word.  "  Don't  tell  your 
husband  till  I  am  gone,"  he  said,  with  a  rough- 
ness quite  new  in  his  sister's  experience  of 
him.  "  I  know  I  only  deserve  to  be  laughed 
at,  but  it  hurts  me  for  all  that." 

"  Hurts  you  ?  "  she  i-epeated  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  You  can't  think  me  half  such  a  fool,  Liz- 
zie, as  I  think  myself,"  pursued  Kirke,  bitter- 
ly. "A  man  at  my  age  ought  to  know  better. 
I  didn't  set  eyes  on  her  for  as  much  as  a  min- 
ute altogether ;  and  there  I  have  been  hang- 
ing about  the  place  till  after  nightfall  on  the 
chance  of  seeing  her  again — skulking,  I  shonld 
have  called  it,  if  I  bad  found  one  of  my  men 


doing  what  I  have  been  doing  myself.  I  be- 
lieve I  "m  bewitched.  She  's  a  nu're  girl,  Liz- 
zie—  I  doubt  if  she  's  out  of  her  teens;  I  'm 
old  enough  to  be  her  father.  It  's  all  one ; 
she  stops  in  my  mind  in  spite  of  me.  I  've 
had  her  face  looking  at  me  through  the  pitch 
darkness  every  step  of  the  way  to  this  house; 
and  it  "s  looking  at  me  now,  as  plain  as  I  see 
yours,  and  ])lainer." 

He  rose  impatiently,  and  began  to  walk 
backward  and  forward  in  the  room.  His  sis- 
ter looked  after  him  with  surprise  as  well  aa 
sympathy  expressed  in  her  face.  From  his 
boyhooil  upward  she  had  always  been  accus- 
tomed to  see  iiim  master  of  himself.  Years 
since,  in  the  failing  ibrtunes  of  the  family,  he 
had  been  their  example  and  their  support. 
She  had  heard  of  him  in  the  desperate  emer- 
gencies of  a  life  at  sen,  when  hundreds  of  his 
fellow-creatures  had  looked  to  his  steady  self- 
pos.session  for  i-escue  from  close  -  threatening 
death,  and  had  not  looked  in  vain.  Never  in 
ail  her  life  betore  had  his  sister  seen  the  bal- 
ance of  that  calm  and  equal  mind  lost  as  she 
saw  it  lost  now. 

"  How  can  you  talk  so  unreasonably  about 
your  age  and  yourself?"  she  said.  "There 
is  not  a  woman  .^live,  Robert,  who  is  good 
enough  for  you.     What  is  her  name  ?  " 

"  Bygrave.     Do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  iSIo;  but  I  might  soon  make  acquaintance 
with  her.  If  we  only  had  a  little  tune  before 
us;  if  I  could  only  get  to  Aldliorough  and  see 
her.  But  you  are  going  away  to-morrow; 
your  ship  sails  at  the  end  of  the  week." 

"  Thank  God  lor  that ! "  said  Kirke  fer- 
vently. 

"Are  you  glad  to  be  going  away?"  she 
asked,  more  and  more  amazed  at  him. 

"Right  glad,  Lizzie,  ibr  my  own  sake.  If 
I  ever  get  to  my  senses  again  I  shall  find  my 
way  back  to  them  on  the  deck  of  my  ship. 
This  girl  has  got  between  me  and  my  thoughts 
already ;  she  shan't  go  a  step  further,  and 
get  between  me  and  my  duty.  I  'm  deter- 
mined on  that.  Fool  as  I  am,  I  have  sense 
enough  left  not  to  trust  myself  within  easy 
hail  of  Aldborough  to-morrow  morning.  I  'm 
good  for  another  twenty  miles  ot'  walking,  and 
I  '11  begin  my  joui-ney  back  to-night." 

His  sister  starred  up,  and  caught  him  fast  by 
the  arm.  "  Robert!"  she  exclaimed ;  "you  're 
not  serious?  You  don't  mean  to  leave  us  on 
foot  alone  in  the  dark  ?  " 

"  It 's  only  saying  fjood-by,  my  dear,  the  last 
thing  at  night  instead  of  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile.  "  Try 
and  make  allowances  for  me,  l^izzie.  My  life 
has  been  passed  at  sea,  and  I  'm  not  used  to 
having  my  mind  upset  in  tliis  way.  Men 
ashore  are  used  to  it ;  men  asliore  can  take  it 
easy.  I  can't.  If  I  stopped  here,  I  shouldn't 
rest.  If  I  waited  till  to-morrow,  I  should  only 
be  going  back  to  have  another  look  at  her.  I 
don't  want  to  feel  more  ashamed  of  myself 
thau  I  do  already.     I  want  to  fight  my  way 


NO  NAI^IK. 


131 


back  to  my  duty  and  myself  without  stopping: 
to  think  twici!  about  it.  Darkness  is  nothing 
to  me — I  AM  usi'd  to  darkness.  I  have  got  the 
]ii<rh-road  to  walk  on,  and  I  can't  lose  my  way. 
Let  me  go,  Lizzie !  The  only  sweetheart  I 
have  any  business  with  at  my  age  is  my  ship. 
Let  me  get  back  to  her  !  " 

His  sister  srill  kept  her  hold  ofliis  arm,  and 
still  pleailod  wirh  him  to  stay  till  the  morning. 
He  listened  to  her  with  perfect  patience  and 
kindness,  but  she  never  shook  his  determina- 
tion for  an  instant. 

"What  am  I  to  say  to  William?"  she 
pleaded.  "  What  will  he  think  when  he 
comcj*  back  and  finds  you  gone  ?  " 

"  Tell  him  I  have  taken  the  advice  he  gave 
us  in  his  sermon  last  Sunday.  I  have  turned  my 
back  on  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil." 

"  How  can  you  talk  so,  Robert  ?  And  the 
bovs  too — you  promised  not  to  go  without  bid- 
ding the  boys  gooil-by." 

"  That 's  true.  I  made  my  little  nephews  a 
promise,  and  I  '11  keej)  it."  He  kicked  ofl"  his 
shoes  as  he  spoke  on  the  mat  outside  the  door. 
"  Li_dit  me  up  stairs.  Lizzie;  I  '11  bid  the  two 
boys  good-liy  without  waking  them." 

Shd  saw  the  uselessness  of  resisting  him  any 
longer,  and,  taking  the  candle,  went  before 
him  up  stairs. 

The  boy.s — both  young  children — were  sleep- 
ing together  in  the  s.ime  bed.  The  youngest 
was  his  uncle's  f;vvorite,  and  was  calliMl  by  his 
uncle's  name.  He  lay  peacefully  asleep,  with 
a  rough  little  toy  ship  hugged  fast  in  his  arms. 
Kirke's  eyus  sotLened  as  he  stole  on  tip-toe  to 
the  child's  siile  and  kissed  him  with  the  gentle- 
ness of  a  woman.  "  Poor  little  man  !"  said  the 
sailor,  tenderly;  "  he  is  as  fond  of  his  ship  as 
I  was  at  his  ag(\  I  'II  cut  him  out  a  better  one 
when  I  cnn'.e  i^ack.  Will  you  give  nie  my 
nephew  one  of  these  days,  Lizzie,  and  will  you 
let  me  make  a  sailor  of  him  ';*" 

"  Oh,  Rnl)ert,  if  you  wor(>  only  married  and 
happy,  as  I  am  !" 

"The  time  ha^*  gone  by,  my  dear.  I  must 
make  the  best  of  it  as  I  am,  with  my  little 
ne])hew  thert^  to  help  me." 

1I(!  left  tli(!  room.  His  sister's  tears  fell  fast 
as  she  lollowed  him  into  the  parlor.  "  There 
is  somcthinir  so  forlorn  and  dreadful  in  your 
leaving  us  like  thi.^"  she  said.  •'  Siiall  I  go  to 
Aldi)orougii  tn-inorro>v,  Robert,  and  try  if  I 
can  get  anjuainted  with  her  for  your  sake  ?" 

"No!'  lie  rcjilied.  "Let  her  be.  If  it 's 
ordered  that  I  am  to  see  that  girl  again,  I  sfinll 
see  her.  Leave  it  to  the  futine.  and  you  leave 
it  right."  He  put  on  his  shoes,  and  look  up  his 
hnt  and  stick.  "  I  won't  overwalk  myself,"  he 
said,  cheerfully.  "  If  the  coach  doesn't  over- 
take me  on  the  road.  I  can  wait  for  it  where  I 
stop  to  breakfast.  Dry  your  eyes,  my  dear, 
and  give  me  a  kiss." 

She  was  like  her  brother  in  features  and 
complexion,  and  she  had  a  touch  of  her  broth- 
er's spirit — siji-  dashed  away  the  tears,  and  took 
her  leavo  of  him  bravely. 


"  I  shall  be  back  in  a  year's  time,"  said 
Kirke,  falling  into  his  old  sailor-like  way  at  the 
door.  "  I  '11  bring  you  a  China  shawl,  Lizzie, 
and  a  chest  of  tva,  tor  your  storeroom.  Don't 
let  the  boys  forget  me,  and  don't  think  I  'm 
doing  wrong  to  leave  you  in  this  way.  I  know 
I  'm  doing  right.  Clod  bless  you  ami  keep  you, 
my  dear  —  and  your  husband,  and  your  chil- 
dren !     Good-by !" 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her.  She  ran  to  the 
door  to  look  after  him.  A  puff  of  air  e.vtin- 
gnished  the  candle,  and  the  black  night  shut 
him  out  from  her  in  an  instant. 

Three  days  afterward  the  first-class  mer- 
chantman l)e!iverancp-^K'irki\  commander — 
sailed  from  Lon<lon  for  the  China  Sea. 


CHAPTER    HI. 

The  threatening  of  storm  and  change  passed 
away  with  the  night.  When  morning  rose  over 
Aldborough  the  sun  was  master  in  the  blue 
heaven,  and  the  waves  were  rippling  gayly 
under  the  summer  breeze. 

At  an  hour  when  no  other  visitors  to  the 
watering-place  were  ytt  astir  the  indefatigalilc 
Wragge  appeared  at  the  door  of  North  Si;Ia- 
gles  V^illa,  and  directed  his  steps  northward, 
with  a  neatly  bound  copy  of  Joyce's  "  Scien- 
tific Dialogues  '  in  his  hand.  Arriving  at  t)ic 
waste  ground  beyond  the  houses,  he  descended 
to  the  beach  and  opened  his  book.  The  inter- 
view of  the  past  night  had  sharpened  his  per- 
ception of  the  difhculties  to  be  encounteretl  in 
the  coming  enterprise.  He  was  now  doubly 
determined  to  try  the  characteristic  experi- 
ment at  which  he  had  hinted  in  iiis  letter  to 
Magdalen,  and  to  concentrate  on  himself — in 
the  chanacter  of  a  remarkably  well-intbrmed 
man — the  entire  interest  and  attention  of  the 
formidable  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Having  taken  his  dose  of  ready-made  science 
(to  use  his  own  expression')  the  first  thing  hi 
the  morning  on  an  empty  stomach.  Captain 
Wragge  joined  his  small  t'amily  circle  at  break- 
fast-time inflated  with  information  for  the,  day. 
He  observed  that  Magdal-n's  face  showed 
plain  signs  of  a  sleepless  night.  She  made  no 
complaint:  her  manner  was  lomposed,  and  iier 
temper  perfectly  under  control.  Mrs.  Wragge 
— refreshed  bv  some  thirteen  lonsecutive  hoiu's 
of  uninterrupted  repose  —  was  in  excellent 
spirits,  and  up  at  heel  (for  a  wonder)  with 
both  shoes.  She  brought  with  her  into  the 
room  several  large  sheets  of  tissue  paper,  cut 
crisply  into  mysterious  an<l  many  -  varying 
forms,  which  immediately  provoked  from  her 
husband  the  short  and  sharp  question,  "  What 
have  you  got  there  ?" 

"  Patterns,  captain,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  in 
timidly  conciliating  tones.  "  I  went  shopi)ing 
in  London,  and  bought  an  Oriental  Cashmere 
Kobe.    It  coat  a  dual  of  moa*y,  and  I  'm  going 


1S2 


NO  NAME. 


to  try  and  save  by  making  it  myself.    I  'A'e  got  |  of  a  man  who  was  more  annoyed  than  amused 
my  patterns,  and  my  dress-making  directions  j  by  Avliut  he  heard.     When  she  had  done,  he 


written  out  as  plain  as  print.  1  '11  be  vei-y 
tidy,  captain ;  I  '11  keep  in  my  own  corner,  if 
you  '11  please  to  give  nie  one ;  and  whether 
my  head  Buzzes,  or  whether  it  don't,  I  '11  sit 
straight  at  my  work  all  the  same.' 

"  You  will  do  your  work,"  said  the  captain, 
sternly,  "  when  you  know  who  yon  are,  who  I 
am,  and  who  that  young  lady  is — not  hclbre. 
Show  me  your  shoes  !  C4ood.  Siiow  me  your 
cap!     Good!     Make  the  breaki'ast." 

When  breakfast  was  over  Mrs.  Wragge  re- 
ceived her  orders  to  retire  to  an  adjoining 
room,,  and  to  wait  there  until  her  husband 
came  to  release  her.  As  soon  as  her  back  was 
turned  Captain  Wragge  at  once  resumed  the 
conversation  wdiich  had  been  suspended,  by 
Magdalen's  own  desire,  on  the  preceding  night. 
The  questions  he  now  put  to  her  all  related  to 
the  subject  of  her  visit  in  disguise  to  Noel 
Vanstone's  house.  They  were  the  questions 
of  a  thoroughly  clear-headed   man  —  short. 


plainly  told  her  that  her  unlucky  meeting 
on  the  stairs  of  the  lodging-liouse  with  Mrs. 
Wragge  was,  in  his  opinion,  the  most  serious 
of  all  the  accidents  that  ha<l  happened  ia 
Vauxhall  Walk. 

'•  1  can  deal  Avith  the  difficulty  of  my  Avife's 
stupidity,"  he  said,  "as  1  have  often  dealt 
Avitli  it  before.  I  can  hammer  her  new  iden- 
tity inlu  her  head,  but  I  cant  hammer  the 
g])ost  out  of  it.  We  have  no  security  that  the 
Avoman  in  the  gray  cloak  and  poke  bonnet 
may  not  come  back  to  her  recollection  at 
the  most  critical  time  and  under  the  most 
awkward  circumstances.  In  plain  English, 
my  dear  girl,  Mrs.  "Wragge  is  a  pitfall  under 
our  feet  at  every  step  Ave  take." 

"  If  Ave  are  aAvare  of  the  pitfall."  said  Mag- 
dalen, "  we  can  take  our  measuies  for  avoid- 
ing it.     What  do  you  propose  ':"' 

"  I  propose,"  replied  the  captain,  "the  tem- 
porary removal  of  Mrs.  Wr;igge.  Speaking 
searching,  and  straight  to  the  point.  In  less  j  purely  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  vieAv,  I  can't 
than  half  an  hour's  time  he  had  made  himself  j  ailbrd  a  total  separation  from  her.     You  liave 


acquainted  Avith  every  incident  that  had  hap 
pened  in  Vauxhall  Walk. 

The  conclusions  Avhich  the  captain  drew  after 
gaining  his  information  Avere  clear  and  easily 
stated. 

On  the  adverse  side  of  the  qu(\stion,  ho  ex- 
pressed his  conviction  that  Mi-s.  Lecount  had 
certainly  detected  her  visitor  to  be  disguised ; 
that  she  had  never  really  left  the  room, 
though  she  might  have  opened  and  shut  the 
door;  and  that  on  both  the  occasions,  there- 
fore, Avhen  Magdalen  had  been  betrayed  into 
speaking  in  her  oAvn  voice,  Mrs.  Lesount  had 


often  i-ead  of  very  poor  people  being  sud- 
denly enriched  by  legacies  reaching  them 
from  remote  and  unexpected  quarters  ?  Mrs. 
Wragge's  case,  Avhen  I  married  her,  Avas  one 
of  tliese.  An  elderly  female  relative  shared 
tiie  tavors  of  fortune  on  that  occasion  Avith  my 
Avife  ;  and  if  I  only  keep  up  domestic  appear- 
ances, I  happen  to  know  that  Mrs.  Wragge 
Avill  prove  a  second  time  profitable  to  me 
on  that  elderly  relative's  death.  But  for  this 
circumstance  I  should  probably  long  since 
have  transferred  my  Avife  to  the  care  of  so- 
ciety  at  large,   in    the   a<>Teeable   conviction 


heard  her.  On  the  favorable  side  of  tlie  '  that  if  I  didn't  support  her  somebody  else 
question,  he  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  j  Avould.  Although  1  can't  afford  to  take  this 
painted  face  and  eyelids,  the  Avig,  and  the  course,  I  see  no  objection  to  having  her  com- 
padded  cloak  had  so  effectually  concealed  |  ibrtably  boarded  and  lodged  out  of  our  way 
Magdalen's  identity,  that  she   might,  in  her  jlbr  the  time  being — say  at  a  retired  farm-house 


own  person,  defy  the  housekeeper's  closest 
scrutiny,  so  far  as  the  matter  of  appearance 
Avas  concerned.     The   difficulty  of  deceiving 


in  tlie  character  of  a  lady  in  infirm  mental 
health.  You  Avould  find  the  expense  trifling; 
/  should  find  the  relief  unutterable.     What 


Mrs.  Lecount's  ears,  as  Avell  as  her  eyes,  Avas,  ,  do  you  say  V     Shall  I  pack  iier  up  at  once, 


he  readily  admitted,  not  so  easily  to  be  dis 
posed  of.  But  looking  to  the  fact  that  Mag- 
dalen, on  both  the  occasions  Avhen  she  had 
forgotten  herself,  had  spoken  in  the  heat  of 
anger,  he  Avas  of  opinion  that  her  voice  had 
every  reasonable  chance  of  escaping  detec- 
tion if  she  carefully  avoided  all  outbursts  of 
temper  for  the  iuture,  and  spoke  in  those 
more  composed  and  ordinary  tones  of  her 
voice  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  yet  heard. 
Upon  the  whole,  the  captain  was  inclined 
to  pronounce  the  pro-ipect  hopeful  if  one  se- 
rious obstacle  Avere  cleared  aAvay  at  the  out- 
set —  that  obstacle  being  nothing  less  than 
the  presence  on  the  scene  of  action  of  Mrs. 
Wragge. 

To  Magdalen's  surprise,  Avhen  the  course  of 
her  narrative  brought  her  to  tlie  story  of  the 
ghost,  Captain  Wragge  listened  Avith  the  air 


and  take  her  aAvay  by  the  next  coach  V 

"No!"  replied' Magdalen,  firmly.  "The 
poor  creature's  life  is  hard  enough  already; 
I  Avon't  help  to  make  it  harder.  She  was 
affectionately  and  truly  kind  to  me  Avhen  I 
Avas  ill,  and  I  Avon't  aliow  her  to  be  shut  up 
among  strangers  Avhile  I  can  help  it.  The 
risk  of  kee]>ing  het^  here  is  only  one  risk 
more.  I  Avill  face  it,  Captain  Wragge,  if  you 
Avon't." 

"  Tiiink  tAvice,"  said  the  captain,  gravely, 
"befbre  you  decide  on  keeping  Mrs.  Wragge." 

"  Once  is  enough,"  rejoined  Magdalen.  "  I 
Avon't  have  her  sent  aAvay." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  captain,  resignedly. 
"  I  never  interfere  Avith  questions  of  senti- 
ment. But  I  have  a  Avord  to  say  on  my  oAvn 
behalf.  If  my  services  are  to  be  of  any  use  to 
you,  I  can't  have  my  hands  tied  at  starting. 


NO  NAaiE. 


13S 


This  is  serious.  I  won't  trust  my  wife  and 
Mrs.  Lccouiit  toffether.  I  'm  afraid,  if  you  're 
not ;  and  I  make  it  a  condition  that  if  Mrs. 
Wragjre  stops  here  she  keeps  her  room.  It' 
yon  think  lier  liealth  requires  it,  yon  can  take 
her  for  a  walk  early  in  the  niorninjr  or  kite  in 
the  evening ;  but  you  must  never  trust  lier  out 
with  the  servant,  and  nevt'r  trust  her  out 
by  herself.  I  put  the  matter  phiinly  :  it  is  too 
important  to  be  trifled  with.  Wiiat  do  you 
say — yes  or  no  ?" 

"  I  sav  ves,"  replied  i\Iagdalen,  after  a  mo- 
ment's consideration,  "on  the  nnderstanding 
that  I  am  to  lake  her  out  walking  as  you  pro- 
pose."' 

Ca]itain  Wragge  bowed,  and  recovered  his 
suavitv  of  manner.  "  What  are  our  plans  V" 
he  inquired.  "  Shall  we  start  our  enterprise 
this  afternoon  ?  Are  you  ready  for  your  intro- 
duction to  ]\Irs.  Lecount  and  her  master  ?" 

"  Quite  ready." 

"  Good  again.  We  Avill  meet  them  on  the 
Parade  at  their  usual  liour  for  going  out — two 
o'clock.  It  is  not  twelve  yet.  I  have  two 
hours  before  me — just  time  enough  to  lit  my 
wife  into  her  new  Skin.  The  process  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  prevent  her  compromising 
us  with  the  servant.  Don't  be  afraid  about 
the  results ;  Mrs.  Wragge  has  had  a  copious 
selection  of  assumed  names  hammered  into 
her  head  in  the  course  of  lier  matrimonial 
career.  It  is  merely  a  question  of  hammering 
hard  enough — nothing  more.  I  think  we  have 
settled  eM'rything  now.  Is  there  anything  I 
can  do  before  two  o'clock  ?  Have  you  any 
employment  for  the  morning?" 

"  No,"  said  ]\Iagdaien.  "  I  shall  go  back  to 
my  own  room  and  try  to  rest." 

*'  You  had  a  disturbed  night,  I  am  afraid  V" 
said  the  captain,  politely  0])ening  the  door  for 
her. 

"  I  fell  asleep  once  or  tAvice,"  she  answered, 
carelessly.  "  I  suppose  my  nerves  are  a  little 
shaken.  The  bold  black  eyes  of  that  man  who 
stared  so  rudely  at  me  yesterday  evening 
seemed  to  be  looking  at  me  again  in  my 
dreams.  If  we  see  liim  to-day,  and  if  he  an- 
noys me  any  more,  I  must  troid)le  tou  to  speak 
to  him.  ^Ve  will  mec-t  hen'  again  at  two 
o'clock.  Don't  be  hard  with  Mrs.  Wragge ; 
teach  her  what  she  must  learn  as  tenderly  as 
you  can." 

With  those  words  she  left  him  and  went  up 
stairs. 

She  lay  down  on  her  bed  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  and  fried  to  sleep.  It  was  useless.  The 
dull  weariness  of  herself  which  now  possessed 
her  was  not  the  weariness  which  finds  its 
remedy  in  repose.  She  rose  again  and  sat  by 
the  window,  looking  out  listlessly  over  the  sea. 

A  weaker  nature  than  hers  would  not  have 
felt  the  shock  of  Frank's  desertion  as  she  had 
felt  it — as  she  was  feeling  it  still.  A  weaker 
nature  would  have  found  refuge  in  indigna- 
tion, and  comfort  in  tears.  The  jiassionate 
«trt>ugtb  of  Magdaluu's  lovu  clung  desperately 


to  the  sinkincc  wreck  of  its  own  delusion  — 
clung,  until  she  tore  herself  from  it  by  main 
force  of  Avill.  All  that  her  native  pride,  her 
keen  sense  of  wrong  could  do,  ivas  to  shame 
her  from  dwelling  on  the  thoughts  which  still 
caught  their  breath  of  life  from  the  undying 
devotion  of  the  past;  which  still  perversely 
ascribed  Frank's  heartless  farewell  to  any 
cause  but  the  inborn  baseness  of  the  man 
who  ha<l  written  it.  The  woman  never  lived 
yet  who  could  cast  a  true  love  out  of  her 
heart  because  the  object  of  that  love  was  un- 
worthy of  her.  All  she  can  <lo  is  to  struggle 
against  it  in  secret — to  sink  in  the  contest,  if 
she  is  weak  ;  to  win  her  Avay  through  it,  if 
she  is  strong,  by  a  process  of  self-laceration 
which  is,  of  all  moral  remedies  applied  to  a 
woman's  nature,  the  most  dangerous  and  the 
most  desperate ;  of  all  moral  changes  the 
change  that  is  surest  to  mark  her  for  life. 
jNIagdalen's  strong  nature  had  sustained  her 
through  the  struggle,  and  the  issue  of  it  had 
left  her  what  she  now  was. 

After  sitting  by  the  window  for  nearly  an 
hour  —  her  eyes  looking  mechanically  at  the 
view,  her  mind  empty  of  all  impressions,  and 
conscious  of  no  thoughts — she  shook  ofT  the 
strange  waking  stupor  that  possessed  her,  and 
rose  to  prepart^  herself  for  the  serious  business 
of  the  day. 

She  went  to  the  wardrobe,  and  took  down 
from  the  pegs  two  bright,  delictate  muslin 
dresses  which  had  been  made  for  summer 
wear  at  Combe-Kaven  a  year  since,  and  which 
had  been  of  too  little  value  to  be  worth  sell- 
ing when  she  parted  with  her  other  pos.ses- 
.•;ions.  After  placing  these  dresses  side  by 
side  on  the  bed,  she  looked  into  the  wardrobe 
once  more.  It  only  contained  one  other  sum- 
mer dress — the  plain  aljjaca  gown  which  she 
had  worn  during  her  memorable  interview 
with  Noel  VanstouG  and  I\Irs.  Lecount.  This 
she  left  in  its  i)laee,  resolving  not  to  wear  it, 
less  from  any  dread  that  the  housekeeper 
might  recognize  a  pattern  Uio  quiet  to  be  no- 
ticed, and  too  counnon  to  be  remembered, 
than  from  the  conviction  that  it  was  neither 
gay  nor  becoming  enough  for  the  purpose. 
After  taking  a  plain  white  muslin  .scarf,  a 
pair  of  light  gray  kid  gloves,  and  a  garden- 
hat  of  Tuscan  straw  from  the  drawers  of  the 
wardrobe,  she  locked  it,  and  put  the  key  care- 
fully in  her  pocket. 

Instead  of  at  once  proceeding  to  dress  her- 
sell",  she  sat  idly  looking  at  the  two  muslin 
gowns ;  careless  which  she  wore,  and  yet 
ini-onsistently  hesitating  which  to  choose. 
"  AVhat  does  it  matti-r  I"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  a  reeklcs<s  laiigh  ;  "  I  am  ecpially  worthless 
in  niv  own  estimation,  whichever  I  put  on." 
She  shuddered,  as  if  the  sounil  of  her  own 
laughter  had  startled  her,  and  abruptly  caugh^ 
up  the  dress  which  lay  nearest  to  her  hand. 
Its  colors  were  blue  and  white  — the  shade  of 
blue  which  best  suited  her  fair  comple.xion. 
She  hurriedly  put  ou  the  gowu  without  going 


184 


NO  NAME. 


near  her  looking-glass.  For  the  first  tim'^  in 
her  life  she  shrank  from  meeting  the  reilee- 
tion  of  herself,  except  for  a  moment,  when 
she  arranged  lier  hair  under  her  garden-liat, 
leaving  the  glass  again  immediately.  She 
drew  her  scarf  over  her  shoulders,  and  fitted 
on  her  gloves,  with  her  back  to  the  toilet- 
table.  ''Shall  I  paint?"  she  asked  herself, 
feeling  instinctively  that  she  was  turning  pale. 
"  Tlie  rouge  is  still  left  in  my  box.  It  can't 
make  my  face  more  false  than  it  is  already.'' 
She  looked  round  toward  the  glass,  and  again 
turned  away  from  it.  "  No  I"  she  said.  I 
have  Mrs.  l^ecount  to  face  as  well  as  her  mas-  j 
ter.  No  paint."  After  consulting  her  watch, 
she  left  the  room  and  went  down  stairs  again. 
It  wanted  ten  minutes  only  of  two  o'clock. 

Captain  \\  ragge  was  waiting  for  her  in  the 
parlor  —  respectable  in  a  frock-coat,  a  stiff 
summer  cravat,  and  a  high  white  hat ;  speck- 
lessly  and  cheerfully  rural,  in  a  buff  waist- 
coast,  gray  trowsers,  and  gaiters  to  match. 
His  collars  were  higher  than  ever,  and  he 
carried  a  bran-new  camp-stool  in  his  hand. 
Any  tradesman  in  England  who  had  seen  him 
at  that  moment  would  have  trustetl  him  on 
the  spot. 

"Charming!"  said  the  captain,  paternally 
surveying  Magdalen  when  slie  entered  the 
room.  "  So  i'resii  and  cool  I  A  little  too  pale, 
my  dear  and  a  great  deal  too  serious.  Other- 
wise j)erfect.     Try  if  you  can  smile."  ' 

"  WhiMi  the  time  eonies  for  smiling,"  said  ■ 
Magdalen,  bitterly,  '•  trust  my  dramatic  train-  | 
ing  for  any  change  of  face  that  may  be  nee-  i 
essary.     AV'here  is  Mrs.  Wragge  ?"  i 

"  Mrs.    Wragge    has    learned   her    lesson,"  ' 
replied  the  captain,  "and  is  rewarded  by  my  i 
permission    to  .sit   at   work  in    her  room.     J  | 
sanction  h'.'r  new  fancy  for  dress-making,  be-  ! 
cause  it   is  sure  to  absorb   all  her  attention  ! 
and  to  keep  her  at  home.     There  is  no  fear  i 
of  her  finishing  the  Oriental  Robe  in  a  hurry, 
for  there  is  no  mistake  in  the  process  of  mak-  I 
ing  it  which  she  is  not  cenain  to  commit.   She  ! 
will   sit  incubating   her   gown  —  pardon  the 
expression  —  like  a  hen  over  an  addled  egg. 
I    assure    you    her    new    whim    relieves    me. 
Nothing  could  be  more  convenient  under  ex- 
isting circumstances." 

He  strutted  away  to  the  window,  lookeii 
out,  and  beckoned  to  Magdalen  to  join  him. 
"  There  they  are  ! '  he  said,  and  pointed  to 
the  Parade. 

Mv.  Noel  Vanstone  slowly  walked  by,  as 
she  looked,  dressed  in  a  complete  suit  of  old- 
fashioned  nankeen.  It  was  apparently  one 
of  the  days  when  the  state  of  his  health  was 
at  the  worst.  He  leaned  on  Mrs.  Leeount's 
arm,  and  was  protected  from  the  sun  by  a 
light  umbrella  which  she  held  over  him.  The 
hoijisekeeper — dressed  to  perfection,  as  usual, 
in  a  quiet  lavender-colored  summer  gown,  a 
black  mantilla,  an  unassuming  straw  bonnet, 
and  a  crisp  blue  veil  —  escorted  her  invalid 
tl^aster  with  the  teaderust  attention ;   some- 


times directing  his  notice  respectfully  to  the 
variou.s  objects  of  the  sea -view,  sometimes 
bending  her  head  in  graceful  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  courtesy  of  passing  strangers  on 
the  Parade  who  stepped  aside  to  let  the  in- 
valid pass  by.  She  produced  a  visible  effect 
among  the  idlers  on  th(!  beach.  They  looked 
after  her  with  unanimous  interest,  and  ex- 
changed confidential  nods  of  approval,  which 
said,  as  plaiidy  as  Avords  could  have  expressed 
it,  "A  very  domestic  person  !  a  truly  superior 
woman  !" 

Captain  Wragge's  parti-colored  eyes  follow- 
ed INlrs.  Lecount  with  a  steady,  distrustful 
attention.  "  Tough  work  for  us  there  "  he 
whispered  in  Llagdalen's  ear;  "  tougher  Avork 
than  you  think,  before  we  turn  that  woman 
out  of  iier  plai.-e." 

"Wait,"  said  Magdalen,  quietly  —  "wait, 
and  see." 

She  walked  to  the  door.  The  captain  fol- 
lowed her  without  making  any  further  remark. 
"  I  '11  Avait  till  you  're  married,"  he  thouglit  to 
himself,  "  not  a  moment  longer,  offer  me  what 
you  may." 

At  the  house-door  Magdalen  addressed  him 
again  : 

"  We  will  go  that  way,"  she  said,  pointing 
southwai-d  ;  "  then  turn  and  meet  tiiem  as  they 
come  back." 

Captain  Wragge  signified  his  approval  of 
the  arrangement,  and  Ibllowed  Magdalen  to 
the  garden-gate.  As  she  opened  it  to  pass 
through  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  lady, 
with  a  nursery-maid  and  two  little  boys  behind 
her,  loitering  on  the  path  outside  the  garden- 
wall.  The  lady  started,  looked  eagerly,  and 
smiled  to  lierself  as  Magdalen  came  out.  Cu- 
riosity had  got  the  better  of  Kirke's  sister,  and 
she  had  come  to  Aldborough  for  tke  express 
purpose  of  seeing  Miss  Bygrave. 

Something  in  the  .shape  of  the  lady's  face, 
something  in  the  expression  of  her  dark  eyes, 
reminded  Magdalen  of  the  merchant-captain 
whose  uncontrolled  admiration  had  annoyed 
her  on  the  previous  evening.  She  instantly 
returned  the  stranger's  scrutiny  by  a  frown- 
ing, ungracious  look.  The  lady  colored,  paid 
the  look  back  with  interest,  and  slowly  walked 
on. 

"  A  hard,  bold,  bad  girl,"  thought  Kirke's 
sister.  "  What  could  Robert  be  thinking  of  to 
admire  her?  I  am  almost  glad  he  is  gone.  I 
hope  and  trust  he  will  never  set  eyes  on  Miss 
Bygrave  again." 

"  What  boors  the  people  are  here  1"  said 
Magdahm  to  Captain  NVragge.  "  That  woman 
was  even  ruder  than  the  man  last  night.  She 
is  like  him  in  the  face.    I  wonder  who  she  is?" 

"  I  '11  find  out  directly,"  said  the  captain. 
"  We  can't  be  too  cautious  about  strangers." 
He  at  (mce  appealed  to  his  friends,  the  boat- 
men. Th(;y  were  close  at  hand,  and  Magda- 
len heard  the  questions  and  answers  plainly. 

"  How  are  you  all  this  morning?"  said  Cap- 
taiu  Wragge,  iu  his  easy,  jocular  way.     "  Aod 


XO  NAME. 


ISl 


how  's  the  wind  ?  Nor'wost  and  by  west,  is 
it  ?     Very  pood.     Wlio  is  that  lady  V" 

"That's  Mrs.  Si rifklnnd.  Sir." 

**  Ay  !  ay  !  The  (■ler<fynian's  wife  and  the 
eaptain's  sister.    Wiiero's  the  eaptain  to-day V" 

"  On  his  way  to  London,  I  should  think.  Sir. 
His  ship  sails  for  China  at  tiie  end  of  the 
week." 

China !  As  tliat  one  word  passed  th«  man's 
lij)?  a  pang  of  the  old  sorrow  struck  Magdalen 
to  the  heart.  Stranger  as  he  was,  she  began 
to  hate  the  bare  mention  of  the  merchant- 
captain's  name.  He  ha<l  troubled  her  dreams 
of  the  past  night ;  and  now,  when  she  was 
most  desperately  and  recklessly  bent  on  for- 
getting her  old  home-existence,  he  had  been 
indirectly  the  eause  of  recalling  her  mind  tx) 
Frank. 

"  Come !"  she  said  angrily  to  her  compan- 
ion. "  AViiat  do  we  care  about  the  man  or 
his  ship  ?     Come  away  !" 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  .\s 
long  as  we  don't  find  friends  of  the  13ygraves, 
what  do  we  care  about  anybody  ?" 

They  walked  on  tsontliward  tor  ten  minutes 
or  more,  then  turned  and  walked  back  again 
to  meet  Noel  A'anstone  and  Mrs.  Lecount. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Captain  Wragge  and  INIagdalen  retraced 
their  steps  until  ihey  were  again  within  view 
of  North  Shingles  Villa  before  any  signs  ap- 
peared of  ]\Irs.  Lecount  and  her  master.  At 
that  point  the  housekeeper's  lavender-eoloi-ed 
dress,  the  umbrella,  and  the  feeble  little  figure 
in  nankeen  walking  under  it,  became  visibk^ 
in  the  distance.  The  captain  slackened  his 
])aee  immediately,  and  is.-ued  his  directions  to 
Magdalen  lor  her  conduct  at  the  coming  in- 
terview in  these  words: 

"  Don't  forget  your  smile,"  he  said.  "  In  all 
other  respects  you  will  do.  The  walk  has  im- 
proved your  complexion,  and  the  hat  becomes 
you.  Look  ]\Irs.  Lecount  steadily  in  the  face; 
bhow  no  embarrassment  when  you  .speak  ;  and 
if  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  pays  you  pointed  atti-n- 
tion,  don't  take  loo  much  notice  of  him  wliile 
liis  hou.sekeeper's  eye  is  on  you.  IMintl  one 
thing!  I  have  been  at  Joyce's  Stientifie  Dia- 
logues all  the  morning,  and  I  am  quite  serious 
in  meaning  to  give  Mrs.  Lecount  the  full  benefit 
of  my  studies.  If  I  can't  contrive  to  divert  her 
attention  from  you  and  her  master,  1  won't 
give  sixpence  for  our  chance  of  success.  Small- 
talk won't  succeed  with  that  woman;  lompli- 
ments  won't  succeed ;  jokes  won't  succeed ; 
ready-made  science  may  recall  the  deceased 
Professor,  and  ready-made  science  may  do. 
We  must  establish  a  code  of  signals  to  let  you 
know  what  I  am  .ibout.  Observe  this  eamp- 
slool.  When  I  shift  it  from  my  left  han<l  to 
my  right,  I  am  talking  Joyce.  When  I  shift 
it  from  my  ri;rht  hand  to  uty  left,  I  am  talkintr 


Wragge.  In  the  first  case,  don't  interrupt 
me  —  I  am  leading  up  to  my  point.  In  the 
second  case,  say  anything  you  like ;  my  re- 
marks are  not  of  the  slightest  conse(juence. 
Would  you  like  a  rehearsal '?  Are  you  sure 
you  understand?  Very  good — take  "my  arm, 
and  look  happy.      Steady!  here  they  are." 

The  meeting  took  place  nearly  midway  be- 
tween Sea-View  Cottage  and  Nortli  Sliiii'Wes. 
Captain  Wragge  took  ofl'  his  tall  white  "liat, 
and  opened  the  interview  immediately  on  the 
triendlic.st  terms. 

•'  Gooii-morning,  Mrs.  Lecount,"  he  said, 
with  th;-  irank  and  cheerful  politeness  of  a 
naturally  sociable  man.  '•  (Jood-morning,  Mr. 
Vanstone;  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  suflerin":  to- 
day. Mrs.  Lecount,  permit  me  to  introduce 
my  niece — my  niece,  I\Iiss  Bygi  ave.  ^Iv  dear 
girl,  this  is  ]\Ir.  Noel  Vanstone,  our  neighbor 
at  Sea- View  Cottage.  We  must  positively  be 
sociable  at  Aldborough,  Mrs.  Lecount.  Thei-e 
is  only  one  walk  in  I  he  place  (as  my  niece  re- 
miuked  to  me  ju.st  now,  Mr.  Vanstone),  and 
on  that  walk  we  must  all  meet  every  time  we 
go  out.  And  why  not?  Are  we  tbrmal  peo- 
ple on  either  side?  Nothing  of  the  .sort — wo 
are  just  the  reverse.  You  possess  the  conti- 
nental facility  of  manner,  !^I^.  A'anstone  —  I 
match  you  with  the  blunt  cordiality  of  art 
old-fashioned  Englishman  —  the  ladies  mingle 
together  in  harmonious  variety,  like  fiowers 
on  the  same  Ijcd  —  and  the  result  is  a  nmtual 
interest  in  making  our  sojourn  at  (he  sea-side 
agreeable  to  each  other.  Pardon  my  llow  of 
spirits;  pardon  my  leeling  so  cheerful  and  so 
young.  The  Iodine  in  the  sc.t-  lir.  ^Irs.  Le- 
count—  the  notorious  etTect  of  the  Iodine  in 
the  sea-air !" 

"  You  arrived  yesterday.  Miss  Bygrave,  did 
you  not  ?"  said  the  housekeeper,  as  soon  as  the 
captain's  deluge  of  language  had  come  to  an 
end.. 

She  addressed  those  words  to  ]\Iagdalen  Avith 
a  gentle,  motherly  interest  in  her  youth  and 
beauty,  chastened  by  the  deferential  amiability 
which  became  her  siMi;ition  in  ^Ir.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  household.  Not  the  faintest  token  of 
suspicion  or  surjirisi;  betraye<l  itstdf  in  her 
face,  her  voice,  or  her  manner  while  she  and 
Magdaien  now  looked  at  each  other.  It  wan 
plain  at  the  outset  that  the  true  face  and 
figure  which  she  now  {law  recalled  nothing  to 
her  mind  of  the  false  face  and  figure  which 
sue  had  seen  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  The  disguise 
had  evidently  been  complete  enough  even  to 
balTle  the  penetrafiou  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

'•  My  aunt  and  I  came  here  yesterday  even- 
ing," said  Magdalen.  "  We  Ibund  the  latter 
part  of  the  journey  very  fatiguing.  I  dare 
say  you  found  it  .so  too?"' 

She  designedly  made  her  answer  longer 
than  was  necessary,  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
covering at  the  earliest  opfjortunity  the  effect 
which  the  sound  of  her  voice  produced  on 
Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  housekeeper's  thin  lipx  niaiutained  their 


M 


ISC 


NO  NAME. 


motherly  smile  —  the  housekeeper's  amiable 
manner  lost  none  of  its  modest  deference  ; 
but  the  expression  of  her  eyes  suddenly  chang- 
ed from  a  look  of  attention  to  a  look  of  in- 
quiry. I^Iagdalen  quietly  said  a  few  words 
more,  and  then  waited  again  for  results.  The 
chanire  spread  gradually  all  over  Mi's.  Le- 
count's  face;  the  motherly  smile  died  away; 
and  the  amiable  manner  beti-ayed  a  slight  j 
touch  of  restraint.  Still,  no  signs  of  positive  ! 
recognition  appeared  ;  t^^e  housekeeper's  ex- 
pression remained  what  it  had  been  from  the 
first  —  an  expression  of  inquir\-,  and  nothing 
more. 

"  You  complained  of  fatigue.  Sir,  a  few 
minutes  since,"  she  said,  dropping  all  further 
conversation  with  Magdalen,  and  addressing 
her  master.     "Will  you  go  in-doors  and  rest?" 

The  proprietor  of  Sea  -  View  Cottage  had 
hitherto  confined  himself  to  bowing,  simper- 
ing, and  admiring  Magdalen  through  his  half- 
closed  eyelids.  Tlicre  was  no  mistaking  the 
sudden  flutter  and  agitation  in  his  manner, 
and  the  heightened  color  in  his  wizen  little 
face.  Even  the  reptile  temperament  of  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  warmed  under  the  influence  of 
the  sex  ;  he  had  an  undeniably  appreciative 
eye  for  a  handsome  woman,  and  Magdalen's 
grace  and  beauty  were  not  thrown  away  on 
him. 

"Will  you  go  in-doors,  Sir,  and  rest?" 
asked  the  housekeeper,  repeating  her  ques- 
tion. 

"  Not  yet,  Lecount,"  said  her  master.  "  I 
fancy  I  feel  stronger ;  I  fancy  I  can  go  on  a 
little."  He  turned,  simpering,  to  Magdalen, 
and  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "  T  have  found  a 
new  interest  in  my  walk.  Miss  Bygrave.  Don't 
desert  us,  or  you  will  take  the  interest  away 
with  you." 

lie  smiled  and  smirked  in  the  highest  ap- 
proval of  the  ingenuity  of  his  own  compliment 
—  from  which  Captain  Wragge  dextrously 
diverted  the  housekeeper's  attention  by  rang- 
ing himself  on  her  side  of  the  path  and  speak- 
ing to  her  at  the  same  moment.  They  all 
four  walked  on  slowly.  Mrs.  Lecount  said 
nothing  more.  She  kept  fast  hold  of  her 
master's  arm,  and  looked  across  him  at  Mag- 
dalen with  the  dangerous  ex[)ression  of  in- 
quiry more  marked  thau  ever  in  her  handsome 
black  eyes.  That  look  was  not  lost  on  the 
wary  Wragge.  He  shifted  his  indicative 
camp-stool  from  the  left  hand  to  the  right, 
and  opened  his  scientific  batteries  on  the  spot. 

"A  busy  scene,  Mrs.  Lecount,"  said  the 
captain,  politely  waving  his  camp-stool  over 
the  sea  and  the  passing  ships.  "  The  great- 
ness of  England,  ma'am  —  the  true  greatness 
of  England.  Pray  observe  how  heavily  some 
of  those  vessels  are  laden  !  I  am  often  in- 
clined to  wonder  whether  the  British  sailor  is 
at  all  aware,  when  he  has  got  his  cargo  on 
board,  of  the  Hydrostatic  importance  of  the 
operation  that  he  has  performed.  If  I  were 
suddenly  transported  to  the  deck  of  one  of 


those  vessels  (which  Heaven  forbid,  for  I  suf- 
fer at  sea  !)  and  if  I  said  to  a  member  of  the 
crew,  'Jack!  you  have  done  wonders;  you 
have  grasped  the  theory  of  floating' vessels' — 
how  the  gallant  fellow  would  stare  !  And  yet 
on  that  theory  Jack's  life  depends.  If  he 
loads  his  vessel  one-thirtieth  part  more  than 
he  ought,  what  happens  ?  He  sails  past  Aid- 
borough,  I  grant  you,  in  safety.  He  enters 
the  Thames,  I  grant  you  again,  in  safety.  He 
gets  on  into  the  fresh  water,  as  far,  let  us  say, 
as  Greenwich;  and  —  down  he  goes  !  Down, 
ma'am,  to  the  bottom  of  the  river,  as  a  matter 
of  scientific  certainty  !" 

Here  he  paused,  and  left  Mrs.  Lecount  no 
polite  alternative  but  to  request  an  explana- 
tion. 

"  With  infinite  pleasure,  ma'am,"  said  the 
captain,  drowning  in  the  deepest  notes  of  his 
voice  the  feeble  treble  in  which  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  paid  his  compliments  to  Magdalen. 
"  We  will  start,  if  you  please,  with  a  first 
principle.  All  bodies  whatever  that  float  on 
the  surface  of  the  water  displace  as  much 
fluid  as  is  eq.ual  in  weight  to  tiie  weight  of  the 
bodies  !  Good  !  We  have  got  our  first  prin- 
ciple. What  do  we  deduce  from  it?  Mani- 
festly this:  That  in  order  to  keep  a  vessel 
above  water  it  is  necessary  to  take  care  that 
the  vessel  and  its  cargo  should  be  of  less 
weight  than  the  weight  of  a  quantity  of  water 
—  l)ray  follow  me  here  !  —  of  a  quantity  of 
water  equal  in  bulk  to  that  part  of  the  vessel 
which  it  will  be  safe  to  immerse  in  the  water. 
Now,  ma'am,  salt  water  is  sjiecifically  thirty  - 
times  heavier  than  fresh  or  river  water ;  and 
a  vessel  in  the  German  Ocean  will  not  sink 
so  deep  as  a  vessel  in  the  Thames.  Conse- 
quently, when  we  load  our  ship  with  a  view 
to  the  London  market,  we  have  (Hvdrostati- 
cally  s])eaking)  three  alternatives.  Either  we 
load  with  one-thirtieth  part  less  than  we  can 
carry  at  sea;  or  we  take  one-thirtieth  part 
out  at  the  mouth  of  the  river;  or  we  do 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  and,  as  I  have 
already  had  the  honor  of  remarking  —  down 
we  go  !  Such,"  said  the  captain,  shifting  the 
camp-stool  back  again  from  his  right  hand  to 
his  left,  in  token  that  Joyce  was  done  with  for 
the  time  being — "such,  my  dear  madam,  is 
the  theory  of  floating  vessels.  Permit  me  to 
add,  in  conclusion,  you  are  heartily  welcome 
to  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"You  have  unintentionally  saddened  me,  but 
the  information  I  have  received  is  not  the  less 
precious  on  that  account.  It  is  long,  long 
ago,  Mr.  Bygrave,  since  I  have  heard  myself 
addressed  in  the  language  of  science.  My 
dear  husband  made  me  his  companion — my 
dear  husband  improved  ray  mind  as  you  have 
been  trying  to  improve  it.  Nobody  has  taken 
pains  with  my  intellect  since.  Many  thanks. 
Sir.  Your  kind  consideration  for  me  is  not 
thrown  away." 

She  sighed  with  a  plaintive  humility,  and 


NO  NAME. 


137 


privately  opnncd  her  ears  to  tlic  conversation 
on  the  otluT  side  of  her. 

A  minute  earlier  she  wonM  have  hca-il  her 
master  expressing  himself  in  the  most  flatter- 
ing terms  on  tlie  sul)jeet  of  IMiss  Bygravc's 
appearance  in  lier  sea- side  costume.  But 
iMagihilen  ha<l  seen  Capt;iin  Wrngjre's  signal 
■\vitii  tlie  camp-stool,  ami  Iiad  at  once  diverted 
"Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  the  topic  of  himself 
and  his  possessions  I)}'  a  neatly  timed  question 
about  his  house  at  Aldbcn-ongli. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  alarm  you,  Miss  Bygrave," 
Tvere  the  first  words  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's 
whieli  caught  Mrs.  Lecounl's  attention  ;  "hut 
there  is  oidy  one  safe  house  in  Aldborougli, 
and  that  house  is  i\line.  'I'he  sea  may  destroy 
all  the  other  houses — it  can't  de.stroy  Mine. 
!My  father  took  care  of  that;  my  father  Avas  a 
remarkable  man.  He  had  My  house  built  on 
piles.  I  have  reason  to  believe  fhej-  are  the 
stiongest  piles  in  Eiiglaml.  Nothing  can  pos- 
fibly  knO(  k  them  down — i  don't  care  wdiat  the 
fea  does — nothing  can  possibly  knock  them 
down." 

'•  'J'hen,  if  the  sea  invades  us,  *  said  Magda- 
len. "  Avc  must  all  inn  for  refuge  (o  you." 

Mr.  Noel  V'aistone  saw  his  w;iy  to  another 
eomplimcnt,  and  at  tlic  snme  moment  the 
wary  captain  saw  his  way  to  anotlicr  burst  of 
eeienee. 

"  I  could  almost  wish  the  invasion  might 
happen,"  niurmureil  one  of  the  gentlemen, 
"to  give  me  the  happiness  of  ottering  tlie 
refuge.' 

"  I  could  almost  swear  the  wind  had  shifted 
again  !"  e.\cl;iimcd  the  otiur.  "  \A'herc  is  a 
man  I  can  ask  V  Oh,  there  he  is.  Boatman  ! 
jiow  's  the  wind  now  ?  Nor'west  and  by  west 
still — hey  ?  And  south-east  and  by  south  yes- 
terday evi-ning — haV  Is  there  anyfhincr  more 
remarkable,  ]\Irs.  Lecoiuit.  than  (he  variable- 
ness of  tlie  wind  in  thi.-*  climate'"  proceeded 
the  captain,  shilting  his  camp-stool  to  the 
pcientilir  side  of  him.  "  Is  tlieix3  any  natm-al 
Jihenouif  lion  morc^  bewildciing  to  the  scientific 
iinpiirer?  You  will  tell  me  that  the  electric 
fluid  which  abounds  in  the  air  is  the  principal 
cause  of  this  variableness.  You  will  remiml 
me  of  the  experiment  of  that  illustiious  philos- 
opher who  measured  the  velocity  of  a  great 
storm  by  a  flight  of  small  feathers.  My  dear 
madam,  !  gr.mt  all  your  propr)sitions — " 

'•  I  beg  \our  pardon,  Sir,"'  said  Airs.  Le- 
rount;  "yon  kindly  attribute  to  me  a  knowl- 
edge that  I  don't  i)0.><.ses.>«.  I'lopositions,  I 
regret  to  say,  are  ipiite  bi-yond  me." 

"  Don't  misunderstand  nn*,  ma'am,"  con- 
tinued the  captain,  polind}  unionscious  of  the 
interruption.  "My  remaiks  apply  to  the 
temperate  zone  only.  Place  me  on  the  coasts 
bi-tween  the  tropics  —  place  mo  where  the 
•\viud  blows  toward  the  shore  in  the  daytime, 
and  toward  the  sea  by  night — an<l  I  instantly 
a<lvance  toward  conclusive  experiments.  For 
example,  I  know  that  the  lu-at  of  the  sun 
during  the  day  rarefies  the  air  ov«r  the  land, 
18 


and  so  causes  the  wind.  You  challenge  me  to 
prove  it.  I  escort  you  down  the  kitchen 
stairs  (with  your  kind  permission)  ;  I  take  my 
largest  ])ie-disli  out  of  the  cook's  hands;  I  fill 
it  with  colli  water.  (Jood !  that  dish  of  cold 
Avater  represents  the  ocean.  I  lu'xt  provi<lc 
myself  with  one  of  our  most  precious  domestic 
conveniences — a  hot-water  plate  —  1  fill  it. 
with  hot  water,  and  I  put  it  in  the  middle  of 
the  pie-ilish.  (iood  again  !  the  hot-water  plato 
represents  the  land  rarefying  the  air  over  it. 
Bear  that  in  mind,  and  give  mi;  a  lighted  can- 
dle. I  hold  my  lighted  candle  over  the  cohi 
Avater  and  blow  it  out.  The  smoke  imme- 
diately moves  from  the  di.sh  to  the  i)latc. 
Before  you  have  time  to  exj)ress  your  satis- 
faction I  light  the  candle  onee  more,  and  re- 
verse the  whole  ])roeeeding.  I  fill  the  pie- 
dish  Avith  hot  Avater,  and  the  plate  Avith  cold; 
I  blow  the  candle  out  again,  and  the  smoke 
moves  this  time  from  the  jjiate  to  the  dish. 
The  smell  is  disagreeable,  but  the  experiment. 
is  conelu-ive." 

He  shitted  the  camp-stool  back  again,  and 
looked  at  Mrs.  Lecouut  Avith  his  ingratiating 
smile.  "  Yoti  don  t  find  me  long-winded, 
ma'am — do  you  ?"  he  .said,  in  his  easy,  cheer- 
fid  way,  just  as  the  housekeejier  Avas  i)iivately 
0])ening  her  ears  once  more  to  the  conversa- 
tion on  the  other  side  of  her. 

"  I  am  amazed,  Sir,  by  the  range  of  your 
information,"  re])lied  Mi's.  Ja'couuI,  observing 
tlie  captain  Avith  some  i)erj)lexiiy,  but  thus  lar 
Avilh  no  distrust.  She  thought  him  eccentric, 
even  for  an  Englishman,  and  possibly  a  little 
vain  of  his  knowledge.  But  he  had  at  least 
]>aid  her  the  implied  compliment  of  addressing 
that  knowledge  to  hei-scit',  and  she  felt  it  the 
more  sensibly  from  having  hitherto  found  her 
scientific  sunpatliics  witli  her  deceased  litis- 
band  treated  with  no  great  respect  by  the 
people  Avith  Avhom  she  came  in  contact. 
"  Have  you  extended  yotn'  imjuiries.  Sir," 
she  proceeded,  afti'i'  a  momentary  hesitation, 
"to  my  late  husband's  branch  of  science?  I 
merely  ask,  ISir.  Bygravi-,  because  (though  I 
am  only  a  Avoman)  1  think  I  might  exchange 
ideas  Avith  you  on  the  subject  of"  the  reptile 
creation." 

Captain  Wraggc  Avas  far  too  sharp  to  risk 
his  rea<ly-made  .science  on  the  enemy's  ground. 
The  old  militia-man  shook  his  Avary  head. 

'•Too  vast  a  .subject,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "for 
a  smatterer  like  me.  i  he  lite  and  labor.-)  of 
such  a  jthilosoiiher  as  your  husband,  Mrs.  Lc- 
count,  Avarn  men  of  my  intidlectual  calibre 
not  to  measure  thenisclvcs  Avith  a  giant.  May 
1  inipiire,"  jiroceedetl  the  captain,  softly 
smoothing  the  Avay  for  future  intercourse  witli 
Sea-View  Cottage,  "whether  you  possess  aiiy 
•scientific  memorials  of  the  late  Professor V" 

"  1  possess  his  Tank,  Sir,''  said  Mrs.  Lc- 
count,  motlestly  catting  her  eyes  on  the 
ground;  "and  one  of  Ins  Subjects — a  little 
foreign  Toad." 

"  llis    Tank  I"  e.\claimcd    flic   captain,  in 


138 


NO  NAME. 


tones  of  mournful  interest.  "  And  liis  Toad  ! 
Parilun  my  blunt  way  of  speaking  my  mind, 
ma'am.  You  possess  an  olyi'et  of  public  in- 
terest ;  and,  as  one  of  the  jjublic,  I  acknowl- 
edge my  cuiiosity  to  .see  it." 

"  INlr^.  Lecount's  smooth  rhoeks  colored  with 
pleasure.  The  one  a.ssai!ablc  place  in  that 
cold  and  secret  nature  was  the  place  occu- 
pied by  the  memory  of  the  Professor.  Her 
pride  in  his  scientific  achievements,  and  her 
mortifit'ation  at  finding  them  but  little  known 
out  of  his  own  country,  were  genuine  feelings. 
Never  had  Captain  Wragge  burned  his  adul- 
terated incense  on  the  ilimsy  altar  of  human 
vanity  to  better  purpose  than  he  was  burning 
it  now. 

'•  You  arc  very  good.  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Le- 
count.  "  In  honoring  my  husband's  memory 
you  honor  me.  But  though  you  kindly  treat 
me  on  a  footing  of  equality,  I  must  not  forget 
that  I  fill  a  domestic  situation.  1  shall  feel  it 
a  privilege  to  show  you  my  relics,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  ask  my  master's  ])ermIssion  first." 

She  turned  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone;  her 
perfectly  sincere  intention  of  making  the  pro- 
posed request,  mingling — in  that  strange  eom- 
])lexity  of  motives  wliich  is  Ibund  so  much 
ofiener  in  a  woman's  mind  than  in  a  man's — 
with  her  jealous  distrust  of  the  impression 
which  Maiidalcn  had  produced  on  her  master. 

"May  I  make  a  request,  Sir?"  asked  ]\Irs. 
Lccouiit,  after  waiting  a  moment  to  catch  any 
fragments  of  tenderly-personal  talk  that  might 
reach  her,  and  after  being  again  neatly  baf- 
lled  liy  IMagdalen  —  thanks  to  the  camp-stool. 
"Mr.  Bygrave  is  one  of  the  few  persons  in 
England  who  apju'eciate  my  liusbniui's  scien- 
tific labors.  lie  honors  me  by  wishing  to  see 
my  little  world  of  reptiles.  May  I  show  it  to 
him  V" 

"  By  all  mear.s,  Lceount,"  said  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone,  graciously.  "  You  are  an  e.\cel- 
lent  crcjifure,  and  J  like  to  oblige  you.  lic- 
count's  Tank,  Mr.  Bygrave,  is  the  only  Tank 
in  England  —  Lecount's  Toad  is  the  oldest 
;  toad  in  the  world.  AVill  you  come  and  (hink 
tea  at  seven  o'clock  to-night?     And  will  you 

1)revail  on  Miss  Bygrave  to  accompany  you  ? 
want  her  to  see  my  house.  I  don't  think  she 
lias  any  idea  what  a  strong  house  it  is.  Conn; 
and  survey  my  premises,  Miss  Bygrave.  You 
shall  have  a  stick  and  rap  on  the  walls;  you 
siiall  go  up  stairs  and  stamji  on  the  floors  — 
and  tlien  you  shall  hear  what  it  all  cost."  His 
eyes  wrinkled  up  cunningly  at  the  corners, 
and  he  slipped  another  tender  speech  into 
Magdalen's  ear,  under  cover  of  the  ali-pre- 
doniitiating  voice  in  which  Captain  Wragge 
thajiked  him  for  the  invitation.  "  Come  punc- 
tually at  seven,"  he  whispered,  '•  and  pray 
wear  that  elianning  hat !" 

!Mrs,  Lecount's  lips  closed  ominously.  She 
set  down  the  captain's  niece  as  a  very  serious 
drawback  to  the  intellectual  luxury  of  the 
captain's  society. 

"  Y<JU  arc  fatiguing  yourself,  Sir,"  she  said 


to  her  master.  "  This  is  one  of  your  bad  days. 
Let  me  recommend  you  to  be  careful;  let  me 
beg  you  to  walk  back." 

Having  carried  his  point  by  inviting  the 
new  acquaintances  to  tea,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
proved  to  be  unexpectedly  docile.  He  ac- 
knowledged that  he  was  a  little  fatigued,  and 
turned  back  at  once  in  obedience  to  the  housc- 
kecpei-'s  advice. 

"  Take  my  arm.  Sir  —  take  my  arm,  on  the 
other  side,"  saiil  Captain  Wrajjge,  as  they 
turned  to  retrace  their  steps.  His  parti-col- 
ored eyes  looked  significantly  at  Magdalen 
while  he  cpoke,  and  warned  her  not  to  stretch 
]\lrs.  Lceount s  endurance  too  far  at  starting.- 
She  instantly  understood  him,  and  in  spite  of 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  rei  I  crated  assertions  that; 
he  stood  in  no  need  of  t!ie  captain's  arm  placed 
herself  at  once  by  the  housekeeper's  side. 
ISIrs.  Lceount  recovered  her  good  humor,  and 
opened  another  conversation  with  IMagdalen 
by  making  the  one  inquiry  of  all  olhei's  which, 
under  existing  circumstances,  was  the  hardest 
to  answer. 

"  1  prejumc  Mrs.  Bygrave  is  too  tired  after 
her  journey  to  come  out  to-day?"  said  Mrs. 
Lecouiit.  "  Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  her  to-monow  ?" 

"  Probably  not,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  My 
aunt  is  in  delicate  health.'* 

"A  couiplicated  ease,  my  dear  madam,"  add- 
ed the  captain,  conscious  that  Mrs.  Wraggc's 
personal  appearance  (if  she  hapi)cned  to  be 
i-ecn  by  accident)  would  ofier  tlic  llattestof  all 
possible  (  oritradietions  to  what  Magdalen  had 
just  said  of  her.  "  There  is  some  remote 
nervous  mischief  which  doesn't  express  itself 
externally.  You  would  think  my  wife  the 
picture  of  health  if  you  looked  at  her  —  and 
yet,  so  delusive  are  appearances,  I  am  obliged 
to  ibriad  her  all  exciicment.  She  sees  no  so- 
ciety— our  medical  attendant,  I  regret  to  say, 
absolutely  i)rohibits  it." 

"  Very  sad,"  said  Mrs.  Lecounl^.  "  Tiic 
poor  la(ly  must  often  feel  lonely,  Sir,  when 
you  and  your  niece  are  array  from  her?" 

"No,"  replied  the  captain.  "^Irs.  Bygrave 
is  a  naturally  domestic  woman.  )Vhcn  she  is 
able  to  employ  herself,  she  finds  unlimited  re- 
soui'ces  in  her  needle  and  thread.'  Having 
reached  this  stage  of  the  explanation  —  and 
having  puj-poselj-  skirted,  as  it  were,  round 
the  coniines  of  truth,  in  the  event  of  the 
housekeeper's  curiosity  leading  her  to  make 
any  private  inquiries  on  the  subject  of  Mrs. 
Wragge  —  the  captain  wisely  checked  his  flu^ 
ent  tongue  from  carrying  him  into  any  fur- 
ther details.  "  I  have  great  hope  from  the 
air  of  this  place,"  he  remarked,  in  con -Insion. 
"  The  Iodine,  as  I  have  already  observed,  dotts 
wonders." 

Mrs.  Lecount  acknowledged  the  virtues  of 
Iodine  in  the  briefest  pQssible  form  of  words, 
and  withdrew  into  the  innermost  sanctuary  of 
her  own  thoughts.  "  Some  mysteiy  here," 
said  the  housekeeper  to  herself.     "A  lady  who 


NO  NAME. 


139 


looks  the  picture  of  health;  a  lady  who  siifTers 
from  a  cotuplicated  iutvous  inalaily  :  and  a 
i;i(iy  w!)o.<t'  hind  is  steady  (Mionu'li  to  use  her 
nerdic  and  thread,  is  a  livinir  mass  of  contra- 
dictions I  don't  (jnito  understand.  Do  yon 
make  a  loni;  stay  at  Aldboroniili,  Sir,"  slie 
added  alouil,  her"  eyes  restinjj  lor  a  niomcnt 
in  steady  scrutiny  on  the  captain's  face. 

'•  It  all  depends,  my  dear  ni;ulaiii,  on  IMrs. 
Bv!jrave.  I  trust  we  shall  stay  throtiiih  the 
autumn.  You  are  settletl  at  Sea-View  Cot- 
tajrc.  1  ]>resnmc,  for  the  season  ?" 

"  You  uuist  ask  my  m:\ster.  Sir.  It  is  for 
him  to  decide,  uot  for  me."  ' 

The  answer  was  an  unfortunate  one.  IMr. 
Noel  Vanstone  had  heen  secretly  annoyed  by 
the  chanire  in  the  walkinL>'  arranijements  which 
Iiad  sepirated  him  from  Majjdalen.  lie  at- 
tributed that  chaniijc  to  the  meddlinir  influ- 
ence of  Mrs.  Lecount,  and  he  now  took  the 
earliest  opportunity  of  rosentinj^  it  on  the 
spot. 

*'  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  our  stay  at  Ahl- 
boroutrh,"  he  broke  out  peevishly.  "  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do,  Lecount,  it  all  depends 
on  yon.  Mrs.  I^ecount  hiis  a  brother  in 
Switzerland,"  he  went  on,  addressinji  himself 
to  the  ca|)tain  —  •' ta  brother  who  is  seriously 
ill.  If  he  oLts  wor.se,  she  will  liave  to  go  there 
and  see  him.  I  can't  accompany  her,  and  I 
can't  be  left  in  the  house  by  myself.  I  shall 
have  to  break  up  my  establishment  at  Ald- 
borouirh,  and  stHy  with  some  frieiuls.  It  all 
de[)enils  on  you,  Lecount — or  on  youi-  brother, 
which  comes  lo  the  same  thinj;  \\'  it  depended 
on  in(\'^  lontinued  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  looking 
pointedly  at  M;ii!;<lalen  across  the  housekeeper, 
'•  I  should  stay  at  Aldl>oroujj;h  all  through  the 
autumn  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  AVitli  the 
prc;\test  pleasure,"  he  reiterated,  rcpe.iling 
tlie  words  with  a  tender  look  for  Magdalen, 
ami  a  spiteful  accent  lor  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Thus  far  (Captain  Wragge  had  remained 
silent,  carefully  noting  in  his  mind  the  ])roinis- 
ing  ]>ossil)ilities  of  a  separation  between  Mrs. 
I.,ccount  and  her  mastci',  whirh  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  little  fretful  outbreak  had  just  disclosed 
to  him.  .\\\  ominous  trenil)ling  in  the  house- 
keejjer's  thin  lips,  as  lier  master  openly  exposed 
lier  family  affairs  before  strangers,  and  openly 
set  her  jealousy  at  defiance,  now  Avarni'd  him 
to  interfere.  If  the  misunderstanding  were 
jiermitted  to  proceed  to  extremities,  there  was 
a  ciiance  that  the  invitation  for  that  evening 
to  Sea-View  Cottage  might  be  ])ut  off.  Now, 
as  ever,  equal  to  the  occasion,  Ca])tain  Wiaggc 
called  his  useful  information  once  more  to  the  I 
rescue.  Uniler  the,  Iearne<l  au-pices  of  Joyce  | 
he  jilungod  lor  tlie  third  time  into  the  ocean  of 
science  and  brought  \ip  another  pearl,  lie 
■was  still  haranguing  (on  I'nemnatics  this  lime), 
still  improving  Mrs.  Lecounl's  mind  with  his 
politest  perseverance  ami  his  smoothest  flow 
of  language,  when  the  walking-party  stopped 
at  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone'!*  door. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  here  we  are  at  your  house, 


Sir,"  said  the  captain,  interrupting  himself  in 
tlie  middle  of  oiu-  of  lii.s  graphic  sentences. 
"  I  won't  keep  you  standing  a  moment.  Not 
a  word  of  apology,  Mrs.  Lecount,  I  beg  and 
]iray!  I  will  put  that  curious  point  in  Pneu- 
matics more  clearly  before  you  on  a  ftituro 
o'ecasion.  In  the  meantime,  I  need  only  re- 
peat that  you  can  perform  the  experiment  I 
have  just  mentioned  to  your  own  entire  sntis- 
faetion  with  a  bladder,  an  exhausted  receiver, 
and  a  square  box.  At  seven  o'clock,  this 
evening,  Sir  —  at  seven  o'clock,  Mrs.  Lecount. 
AVe  have  had  a  remarkably  pleasant  walk, 
and  a  most  instructive  interchange  of  ideas. 
Now,  my  dear  girl,  your  aunt  is  waiting  for 
us." 

While  Jlrs.  Lecount  stepped  aside  to  open 
the  garrlen-gate  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  S'.ix.ed  his 
opportunity,  and  shot  a  last  tender  glance  at 
Magdalen  —  under  shelter  of  the  umbrella, 
which  he  had  taken  into  his  own  hands  fiir 
that  expre.ss  purpose.  "  Don't  forget,"  he  said, 
with  his  sweetest  smile  —  "don't  liarget,  when 
yon  come  lliis  evening,  to  wear  that  (harming 
hat !"  Before  he  could  add  any  last  words 
Mrs.  Lecount  glided  back  to  her  ])laee,  and 
the  slieltering  umbrella  clianged  hamls  again  ' 
innnediately. 

"An  excellent  morning's  work  ! '  said  Cap- 
tain Wragge,  as  he  and  ilagdalen  walked  on 
together  to  North  Shingles.  "  You  and  I  and 
Joyce  have  all  three  done  wonders.  AVe  have 
secured  a  friendly  invitation  at  the  first  day's 
fishing  for  it." 

He  paused  for  an  answer;  and  receiving; 
none,  observed  I^Iagdalen  more  attentively 
than  he  had  observe<l  her  yet.  Iler  face  had 
turned  deadly  pale  again,  her  eyes  looked  out 
mei  hanically  straight  before  her  in  heedless, 
reckless  despair. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  with  the 
greatest  suipri.se.     "  Are  you  ill  V" 

She  made  no  reply ;  she  hardly  seemed  to 
hear  him. 

"  Are  yon  getting  alarmed  about  ]\Irs.  Le- 
count?" he  inquired  next.  "  There  is  not  tho 
least  reason  for  alarm.  She  may  fancy  she  has 
heard  something  like  your  voice  before,  but 
your  face  evidently  bewilders  her.  Keep  your 
temper,  and  you  keep  her  in  the  dark.  Keep 
her  in  the  dark,  and  you  will  put  tliat  two 
hundred  pounds  into  my  hands  beff)re  the 
autumn  is  over." 

lie  waited  again  for  an  answer,  and  again 
she  leniained  silent.  The  captain  tried  for  iho 
third  time  in  another  ilirection. 

"  Did  you  get  any  letters  tliis  morning?"  he 
went  on.  "  Is  there  bad  news  again  frotri 
home  ?  Any  fresh  difficulties  with  your  sis- 
ter?" 

"Say  nothing  about  my  sister!"  she  broke 
out,  passionately.  *'  Neither  you  nor  I  are  fit 
to  speak  of  her." 

She  said  those  words  at  the  garden-gate,  and* 
hurricfl  into  the  house  by  herself.  He  fbllowwl 
her,  and  iieard  the  door  of  lier  own  room  vio- 


140 


NO  NAME. 


I  'iitly  shut  to,  violently  loi/ked  and  doiible- 
lockcil.  Solacinj^  liis  indignation  by  an  oath. 
Captain  AVragtrti  sullenly  went  into  one  of 
the  p  irIor:i  on  the  ground-Hoor  to  look  after 
liis  wife.  The  room  eommiinieated  with  a 
smaller  and  darker  room  at  the  back  of  the 
liouse  by  means  of  a  quaint  little  door,  with  a 
window  in  the  upper  half  of  it.  Softly  ap- 
proaehin'jf  this  door,  the  captain  lifted  the 
white  nmslin  curtain  which  hung  over  the 
window,  and  looked  into  the  inner  room. 

There  was  Mrs.  AVragge,  with  hei*  cap  on 
ox\>'  side,  and  her  shoes  down  at  heel ;  with  a 
row  of  pins  between  her  tei'tli  ;  with  the 
Oriental  Cashmere  llobe  slowly  slip|)ing  off 
the  table  ;  witli  her  scissors  suspended  uncer- 
tain in  one  hand,  and  her  written  directions 
for  dress-m  iking  held  doubtfully  in  the  otiier 
—  so  al)soi-l)ed  over  the  inv'ncible  didi.-ulties 
of  her  employment  as  to  be  jierfectly  uncon- 
scious tliat  she  was  at  that  moment  the  object 
of  her  husband's  supei'intending  eye.  Under 
other  circumstances  she  would  lia\e  been  soon 
brought  to  a  sense  of  her  situation  by  llie 
sound  of  his  voice.  But  Captain  Wragge 
was  too  anxious  about  IMagdalen  to  wa-^te  any 
time  on  his  wife  after  satisfying  himself  tiiat 
she  was  snfe  in  her  seclusion,  and  that  she 
mi<'ht  l)e  trusted  to  I'emain  there. 

lie  left  the  parlor,  and  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion ill  the  passage  stole  up  stairs  and  lister.fed 
anxiously  outside  Magdalen's  door.  A  dull 
Bound  of  sobbing — a  sound  stifled  in  her 
liandkei'chief,  or  stilled  in  the  bedclothes  — 
was  all  that  caught  his  ear.  He  retuined  at 
once  to  t!ie  ground-floor,  with  some  faint  sus- 
picion of  the  truth  dawning  on  his  mind  at 
last. 

"  The  devil  take  that  sweetheart  of  hers!" 
lhouj;lit  the  captain.  "Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
has  raised  the  ghost  of  him  at  starting." 


CHAPTER  V. 

"When  Magdalen  appeared  in  the  parlor, 
sbortly  belbre  seven  o  clock,  not  a  trace  of 
discomposure  was  visible  in  her  manner.  She 
loiked  and  spoke  as  quietly  and  unconcern- 
edly as  usual. 

'hie  lowering  distrust  on  Captain  Wragge's 
face  cleared  away  at  the  sight  of  her.  There 
had  been  moments  during  the  afternoon  when 
he  h  id  seriously  doubted  whether  the  pleas- 
ure of  satisfying  the  grudge  he  owed  to  Noel 
Vanstone.  and  the  prospect  of  earning  the 
sum  of  two  hundred  |)Ounds,  would  not  be 
dearly  purch^ised  by  running  the  risk  of  dis- 
covery to  which  Magdalen's  uncertain  temper 
might  expose  liim  at  any  hour  of  the  day. 
Tile  plain  proof  now  before  him  of  her  powers 
of  self-control  relieved  his  mind  of  a  serious 
auxit'ty.  It  mattered  little  to  the  captain 
■what  she  suftei-ed  in  the  privacy  of  her  own 
chaml^eJ",  jis  long  as  she  camu  out  of  it  with  a 


face  that  would  bear  inspection  and  a  voice 
that  betrayed  nothing. 

On  the  way  to  Sea- View  Cottage  Captain 
Wragge  expressed  his  intention  of  asking  the 
housekeeper  a  few  sympathizing  questions  on 
the  subif-et  of  her  inv<ih'd  brother  in  Switzer- 
land, lie  was  of  opinion  that  the  critical 
condition  of  this  gentlemans  health  mi^«ht 
exercise  an  imjiortant  influence  on  tlie  future 
progress  of  the  conspiracy.  Any  chance  of 
a  separation,  he  remarked,  between  the  house- 
keeper and  her  master  was,  under  existing 
circumstances,  a  chance  which  merited  the 
closest  investigation.  "  If  we  can  only  get 
]\Irs.  Lecount  out  of  the  way  at  the  right 
time,"  whis|)cred  the  captain,  as  he  opened 
his  host's  garden-gate,  "  our  man  is  caught !" 

In  a  minute  more  Magdalen  was  again 
under  Noel  Vanstone's  roof,  this  time  iu  the 
character  of  his  own  invited  guesr.. 

The  proceedings  of  the  evening  were  for 
tho  most  part  a  repetition  of  the  proceedings 
during  the  morning  walk.  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone vibrated  between  his  admiration  of  Mag- 
dalen's beauty  and  his  glorification  of  his  own 
possessions.  Cajjtain  W^ragge's  inexhaustible 
outbursts  of  information  —  relievi-d  by  deli- 
cately indirect  incjulries  rebiting  to  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  brother  —  perpetually  diverted  tho 
housekeeper's  jealous  vigilance  from  dwelling 
on  the  looks  and  language  of  her  master.  So 
the  evening  passed,  until  ten  o'clock.  By 
that  time  the  captain's  ready-made  science 
was  exhausted,  and  the  housekeeper's  temper 
was  forcing  its  way  to  the  surface.  Once 
more  Captain  Wragge  warned  ]\lagdalen  by 
a  look,  and,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's 
hospitable  protest,  wisely  rose  to  say  good- 
night. 

"  I  have  got  my  information, '  remarked  tho 
ca])tain,  on  his  way  back.  "  Mrs.  Lecount's 
brother  lives  at  Zurich.  He  is  a  bachelor; 
he  [lossesses  a  little  money ;  and  his  sister  is 
his  nearest  relation.  If  lie  will  only  be  so 
obliging  as  to  break  up  altogether  he  will 
save  us  a  world  of  trouble  with  Mrs.  lA'COunt." 

It  was  a  fine  moonlight  iiiglit.  He  looked 
round  at  Magdalen  as  he  said  those  words,  to 
see  if  her  intractable  depression  of  spirits  had 
seized  on  her  again. 

No  !  her  variable  liumor  had  changed  onco 
more.  She  looked  about  her  with  a  flaunting, 
feverish  gayety ;  she  scoffed  at  the  bare  idea 
of  any  serious  difllculty  with  Mrs.  Lecount; 
she  mimicked  Noel  Vanstone's  high-pitched 
voice,  and  repeated  Noel  Vanstone's  high- 
flown  compliments,  with  a  bitter  enjoyment 
of  turning  him  into  ridicule.  Instead  of  run- 
ning into  the  house  as  before,  she  sauntered 
carelessly  by  her  companion's  side,  humming 
little  snatches  of  song,  and  kicking  the  hxisu 
pebbles  right  and  left  on  the  garden-walk. 
Captain  Wragge  hailed  the  change  in  her  a» 
the  best  of  good  omens.  He  thought  he  saw 
plain  signs  that  the  family  spirit  was  at  last 
coming  back  again. 


NO  NAME. 


141 


<'  Well,"  bc!  said,  as  lie  lit  her  bedroom  oan- 
dlc!  for  licr,  "  wlicn  w*'.  all  mv\  t  on  the  Parade, 
to-morrow,  we  sliall  see,  as  our  naiitic-al  frlt-iids 
say,  how  tlie  land  lie.«.  One  tiiin<r  I  can  tell 
vou,  mv  dear  <;irl  — I  have  used  my  eyes  to 
"very  little  purjjose  if  there  is  not  .1  storm 
l)r(!\viMi;  to-iiiirlit  iu  IMr.  Noel  Vanstoiic's  do- 
inc^iie  atmo5|ilu're." 

Tiie  captain's  iiabitual  penetration  had  not 
misled  him.  As  soon  as  the  door  of  Sea-View 
Cottape  was  closed  on  the  pai  tinir  jiuests  Mrs. 
Leiount  made  an  eilort  to  a.'sert  the  authority 
wliieh  Maijdaloii's  influenee  was  thrcatenin;; 
already. 

She  em])Ioyed  every  arlifiee.  of  whi(di  she 
was  mistress  to  ascertain  Mairdalens  true  po- 
^iiioii  in  Noel  Vanstone's  estimation.  Slie 
tried  au'ain  and  ajr;>iu  to  lure  iiim  into  an 
uaeonsi'ious  coiii'ession  of  tht'  pleasure  which 
lie  felt  already  in  the  soeiety  of  the  beautiful 
IVIiss  By<jfrave;  she  twined  herself  in  and  out 
ot"  every  weakness  in  his  cdiaracter  as  tlie 
froj:s  and  efts  twined  themsdvi-s  in  and  out 
of  the  rock-woric  of  her  A(pi:irium.  But  siie 
nude  one  serious  mistake,  which  very  clever 
])e()ple  in  their  intercoin-se  with  their  intel- 
1  ctud  interiors  are  almo<t  universally  apt  to 
tonimil- — she  trusted  impliiitly  to  the  folly  of 
a  (<io!.  She  forgot  tliat  one  of  the  lowest  of 
human  <pi\lities  —  cunninji  —  is  exactly  the 
capieily  whicii  is  often  most  lar^rely  developed 
iu  the  lowest  of  iiit<dleetual  natures.  If  she 
had  been  ho!iestly  angry  with  her  master  slie 
woidd  probably  have  friglitened  Iiiin.  If  she 
bail  opet.ed  her  mind  pluinly  to  his  view  site 
would  have  astonished  him  by  ])resontin<i  a 
chain  of  ideas  to  his  limited  jjerceptious,  which 
they  were  not  strong  enough  to  grasp;  Lis 
(  uriiisity  would  have  led  him  to  ask  lor  an 
exjil.ination  ;  and  by  practicing  on  that  curi- 
osity, she  migiit  have  had  him  at  her  mercy. 
As  it  was.  she  set  her  cunning  a-jainst  his, 
nnd  the  fool  proved  a  match  for  her.  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone,  to  whom  all  large-mindi-d 
motives  umler  heaven  wi-re  inscrutable  mys- 
teries, saw  the  sniall-niiniled  motive  at  the 
1 11)1  lorn  of  his  housekeeper's  conduct  with  as 
instantaneous  a  penetration  as  if  he  had  been 
n  mm  of  the  highest  aliilily.  ]\Irs.  Jyecount 
left  him  (or  the  night  foileil,  and  knowing  she 
was  foiled,  left,  iiim  with  the  tigerish  side  of 
her  uppermost,  and  a  low-lived  longing  in  her 
flegant  liiiger-nails  to  s-tthem  in  her  master's 

She  was  not  a  woman  to  be  beaten  by  one 
(lele.it.  nor  by  a  hundreii.  She  was  posilivelv 
determined  to  think,  and  tliink  again,  until 
she  had  found  a  means  of  (diecking  the  grow- 
ing inliina<v  with  the  lJygra\es  at  once,  and 
f«n<'ver.  In  tin;  solitndeof  her  own  room 
ttiie  recovered  her  <  omposure,  and  set  hersi  If 
for  the  first  time  to  review  the  conclusions 
which  8hc  had  gathered  <'ion»  the  events  of 
the  day. 

TIk'S'c  was  something  vagmly  familiar  to 
Ler  iu   the  voice  of  this  Miss  Hygrave ;  and. 


at  the  same  time,  in  unaccountable  contra- 
diction, something  strange  to  her  as  well. 
Tlie  fice  and  fijiure  of  the  young  lady  wero 
entirely  new  to  her.  It  was  a  striking  face 
and  a  striking  figure  ;  and  if  she  had  seen 
either  at  any  former  jieriod  she  would  cer- 
tainly have  remembered  it.  Miss  IJygravo 
wa-  iiiKpu'stionably  a  stranger;  and  yet — 

She  had  got  no  farther  than  this  during  tho 
day;  sjie  could  get  no  tardier  now.  Tho 
chain  of  thougiit  broke.  Ilcr  min<l  look  up 
the  fragin'Mits,  and  formed  another  ch.Vin 
which  atiaclied  itself  to  the  lady  who  was 
kept  in  seclusion  —  to  the  aunt,  who  looked 
well,  and  yet  was  nervous;  who  was  nervon«, 
and  yet  able  to  ])1y  her  needle  and  thread. 
An  iucompndiensii)le  resemblance  to  soma 
unrememberi'il  voice  in  the  niece;  an  nnin- 
teliiuible  ninl  »dy  which  kept  the  aunt  seidud- 
cl  fion  )>ubli  •  view;  an  e.xtr.iordin  iry  rango 
of  scientiliv- cultivation  in  the  uncle,  as.so-iated 
with  a  coarsi-ness  and  audacity  of  manner 
which  by  no  means  suggested  the  idea  of  a 
ni'ui  engaged  in  studious  i)ursuits — were  the 
lU'^mbcrs  of  this  small  I'amily  of  thr-ee  what 
lliey  seeni'-d  on  the  surface  of  them  ? 

\Vith  that  (piestion  on  her  mind  she  went  to 
bed. 

•\s  soon  as  the  candle  was  out  the  darkness 
seemctl  to  communicate  some  inexplicable  per- 
versity to  iier  thoughts.  'J'iiey  wainb-rcd  back 
from  present  things  to  past  in  spite  of  her. 
Tiiey  brought  her  old  ma.-tc.-r  back  to  lifo 
again;  they  revived  torgotten  sayings  and 
doings  in  the  English  circle  at  Zurich  ;  they 
veered  away  to  the  olil  m.iii's  death-bed  at 
Brighton  ;  they  moved  fiom  Brighton  to  Lon- 
don;  they  entered  the  bare,  comfortless  room 
at  Vauxliall  Walk  ;  they  set  the  Acpiariuin 
back  ill  its  place  o"n  the  kitchen-table,  and  put 
tiie  laLse  Miss  (iarili  in  the  chair  by  the  .'■ide 
of  it,  shading  her  inll.imed  eyes  from  tlio 
light;  they  placeil  the  anonymous  letter,  liie 
letter  which  glanced  ilarkly  at  a  conspiracy, 
iu  her  hand  again,  and  brought  her  with  it 
into  her  master's  presence  ;  they  recalled  tho 
discussion  about  (idiiig  in  the.  bl-ink  sjiace  in 
the  advert iseinent.  and  the  (pi.nrel  that  fol- 
lowed, wln-ii  she  to  d  .Mr.  ?Noel  Vanstone  tiat 
till'  sum  he  had  of  fired  was  preposterously 
small;  they  revived  an  old  doubt  whiili  had 
not  troubled  her  for  wi-eks  ]iiist  —  a  doubt 
whether  the  threatened  conspiracy  had  evapo- 
rated iu  mere  words,  or  whether  she  and  her 
m  ister  w.re  likely  to  hear  of  it  again.  At 
this  point  her  thoughts  broke  off  once  more, 
and  there  was  a  munentary  blank.  The  next 
instant  she  .started  up  in  bed,  her  heart  beat- 
in<i  violently,  her  head  whirling  as  if  she  had 
lost  her  senses.  \\  ith  electric  suddenness  her 
mind  jiieced  together  its  scattered  mullitudu 
of  thoughts,  and  put  them  before  her  |dainl/ 
under  one  intelligible  form.  In  the  all-mas- 
tering agitation  of  the  nioaient  s!ie  clapped 
her  hands  together,  and  cried  out  suddenly  in 
the  darkness: 


142 


NO  NAME. 


"  Miss  Vanstone  affaln  !  !  !" 

She  got  out  of  bed  and  kindled  the  light 
once  more.  ISteady  as  her  m  rves  were,  the 
.slio.lc  of  her  own  fiuspicioti  had  shaken  t!iem. 
Her  firm  hand  trembled  as  slie  opened  her 
dressing-case  and  took  from  it  a  little  buttle  of 
sal-volatile.  In  spite  of  her  smootii  cheeks  i 
nnd  h(!r  well-jjreserved  hair  siie  looked  every 
year  of  her  age  as  she  mixed  tlie  spirit  witli 
water,  gieedily  drank  it,  and,  wrapping  her 
dressing-gown  round  her,  sat  down  o.-i  the 
bedside  to  get  possession  again  of  lier  calmer 
self. 

She  was  quite  incapable  of  tracing  the 
mental  process  which  had  led  her  to  dis- 
covery. She  could  not  get  sufficiently  far 
from  lierself  to  see  that  her  half-formed  con- 
clusions on  the  subject  of  tlie  IJygraves  had 
ended  in  making  that  I'amily  oljjects  of  sus- 
])icion  to  lier;  that  the  associaliou  of  ideas 
liad  thereuiion  carried  her  mind  back  to  that 
otiier  object  of  susjiicion  which  -wm,  repre- 
sented by  the  conspiracy  against  her  master  ; 
and  that  the  two  ideas  of  those  two  separate 
subjects  of  distrust,  coming  suddeidy  in  con- 
tact, had  struck  the  light.  She  was  not  able 
to  reason  back  in  this  way  from  the  effect 
to  the  cause.  She  could  only  feel  that  the 
8usi)icio!i  had  become  moi'e  tlian  a  suspicion 
abvady  :  conviction  itself  could  not  have  been 
mo 'e  Hnnty  rooted  in  her  mind, 

J^ooking  back  at  IMagdalen  by  the  new 
light  now  thrown  on  her,  i\Irs.  Lecount  would 
faiu  have  persuaded  herself  that  she  recog- 
nized some  traces  left  of  the  false  Miss  Garth's 
I'a.re  and  figure  in  the  graceful  and  be;mLilul 
girl  who  luul  sat  at  her  muster's  table  hardly 
till  hour  since  —  that  she  found  n.'semblances 
now,  which  she  had  never  thought  of  ijefore, 
between  the  angry  voice  she  had  heard  in 
Vauxhall  Walk  and  the  smooth,  well-bred 
toiK's  which  still  hung  t)n  her  ears  after  the 
evening's  experiim-e  down  stairs.  She  would 
f.iin  have  persuaded  hei>self  that  she  had 
reached  these  results  with  no  undue  strain- 
ing of  the  truth  as  she  rt^ally  knew  it;  but 
the  effort  was  in  vain.  Mrs.  Lecount  was  not 
a  woman  to  waste  time  and  tiiought  in  trying 
to  impuse  on  herself.  She  ace<"ptetl  the  inevi- 
table conclusion  that  the  guesswork  of  a  mo- 
ment had  led  her  to  discovery.  Anil,  more 
taan  that,  she  i-ecognized  the  plain  truth  — 
unwelcome  as  it  was — that  the  conviction  now 
fixed  in  her  own  mind  was,  thus  far,  unsup- 
ported by  a  single  fragment  of  producible 
cvid'uce  to  justify  it  to  tlie  minds  of  others. 

Under  tliese  circumstances,  what  was  the 
safe  course  to  take  with  her  m aster  ? 

If  she  candidly  told  him,  wlien  they  met  the 
next  morning,  what  had  pissed  through  her 
mind  that  night,  her  knowledge  of  Mr.  Noel 
Vaustoue  warned  her  that  one  of  two  results 
would  certainly  happen.  Either  he  would  be 
angry  and  disputatious ;  would  ask  for  proofs  ; 
and,  finding  none  forthcoming,  would  accuse 
her  of  alarming  him  without  a  cause,  to  serve 


her  own  jealous  end  of  keeping  Magdalen  ou!i 
of  the  house  —  or  he  would  be  seriously  star- 
tled, would  clamor  for  tlie  protection  of  tlio 
law,  and  would  warn  the  Bygraves  to  stand  oa 
their  defense  at  the  ouiset.  If  Magdalen 
only  had  been  concerneil  in  the  conspiracy, 
this  latter  consequence  would  have  as<uai(!(l 
no  great  importance  in  the  housckeeper'si 
mind.  But  seeing  the  deception  as  she  now 
saw  it,  she  was  far  too  clever  a  woman  to  fail 
in  estimating  the  captain's  inexaaustible  fer- 
tilit}'  of  resource  at  its  true  value.  "If  I 
can't  meet  this  impudent  villain  with  plain 
proofs  to  help  me,'  thought  Rlrs.  Lecount,  "  X 
may  open  my  master's  eyes  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  Mr.  Bygrave  will  shut  them  up  again 
beibre  night.  The  rascal  is  playing  with  all 
his  own  cards  under  the  table,  and  he  will 
win  the  game  to  a  certainly  if  he  sees  my 
hand  at  starting." 

This  policy  of  waiting  was  so  manifestly 
the  wise  policy  —  the  wily  Mr.  Bygrave  wa» 
so  sni'e  to  have  provided  himselt,  in  case  of 
emergency,  with  evidence  to  prove  the  iden- 
tity which  he  and  his  niece  had  assumed  for 
their  purpose  —  that  Mrs.  Lecount  at  onco- 
decid(;d  to  keep  her  own  counsel  the  lu'xt 
morning,  and  to  pause  before  attacking  tliu- 
conspiracy  until  she  could  ))rodu(C  tiuanswei^ 
able  facts  to  help  her.  Her  master's  aci|naint- 
ance  with  the  Bygraves  was  only  an  ac(jiiaint- 
ance  of  one  day's  standing.  There  was  no 
fear  of  its  developing  into  a  dangerous  inti"- 
macy  if  she  merely  allowed  it  to  continue  tor 
a  few  days  more,  and  if  she  permanently, 
checked  it,  at  the  latest,  in  a  week's  time. 

In  that  period  what  measures  coidd  sho 
take  to  i-emove  the  obsta(des  which  now  stood' 
in  her  way,  and  to  ])rovide  herself  with  tho 
weapons  which  she  now  wanted  '^ 

li.dlectiou  showed  her  three  ddfcrent  chan- 
ces in  her  favor  —  three  diHerent  ways  of  aiv 
riving  at  the  necessary  discovery. 

The  first  chance  was  to  cultivate  friendly, 
terms  with  ^lagdalen,  and  then,  taking  her 
unawares,  to  entrap  her  into  betraying  her- 
self in  Noel  Vanstone's  ])resence.  Tne  second 
chance  was  to  write  to  the  elder  ]\liss  Van- 
stone,  and  to  ask  (with  some  alarming  rea>oQ 
for  putting  the  question)  for  information  oa 
the  subject  of  her  younger  sister's  where- 
abouts, and  of  any  peculiarities  in  her  ])ei'- 
sonal  appearance  which  might  enable  a 
stranger  lo  identify  her.  Tiie  third  chanco 
was  to  penetrate  the  mystery  oi  Mrs.  By- 
grave's  seclusion,  and  to  asceitain  at  a  per- 
sonal interview  whether  the  invalid  lady'* 
real  complaint  might  not  ])Ossib!y  be  a  de- 
fective capacity  for  keeping  her  hu-iband's 
secrets.  liesolving  to  try  ad  three  chance* 
in  the  order  in  which  they  are  here  enu- 
merated, and  to  set  her  snares  for  Magdalen 
on  the  day  that  was  now  already  at  hand, 
ilrs.  Lecount  at  last  took  ofJ"  her  (brssing- 
gown,  and  allowed  her  weaker  nature  to  plead 
with  her  for  a  little  sleep. 


NO  NAME. 


113 


The  (lawn  was  broalving  over  flic  cold  crray 
8o;i  as  slic  lay  down  in  her  bi-d  npain.  The 
last  idra  in  hnr  mind  beibre  slie  fcUasUMq) 
was  cliavactevistiL:  of  tlie  woman  —  it  was  an 
idea  that  threatened  the  eaptain.  "  Ho  lias 
«ri(I;(]  wilh  the  sacred'  memory  of  my  1ms- 
band,"  tlioutrlit  the  Professor's  widow.  "  On 
mv  liii;  and  honor  I  will  maki^  him  pav  ibr 
iti" 

Karlv  the  next  mornin<^  I\I;i<;dalen  began 
tlic  day  —  aeeording  to  lier  airrcement  wi.'li 
the  eaptain  —  by  taking  Mrs.  ^Vragge  ont  ibr 
R  little  ex*  irise  at  an  lionr  when  there  was  no 
fear  of  her  attracting  the  pnblie  attention. 
She  ]>leaded  hard  to  i)e  h-ft  at  homv  ;  having 
the  Oiieiitai  Cashmere  Robe  still  on  her  mind, 
and  feeling  it  necessary  to  read  her  directions 
for  dress- m-dving,  tor  the  hnndrcdth  time  at 
Ica-^r,  belbre  (lo  use  iier  own  expression)  she 
ronid  "screw  np  her  courage  to  put  the 
gcissors  into  the  stuff."  But  lier  companion 
would  take  no  denial,  and  she  was  forced 
lo  go  out.  The  one  guileless  ])urpose  of  the 
life  wliiih  IMagdalcu  now  led  was  the  resolu- 
tion that  poor  J\!rs.  Wragge  should  not  be 
made  a  prisoner  on  lier  account —  and  to  that 
rc.'^olntioii  s!ie  meclianically  clung,  as  the  last 
token  left  her  by  which  she  knew  her  better 
self. 

They  returned  later  than  usual  to  break- 
fast. While  iVIr.s.  AVragge  was  up  stairs 
straightening  herself  from  head  to  foot  to 
mi'eL  I  lie  nu)rninir  ins[)ei'tion  of  her  hnsbaiul's 
orderly  e;,  e,  and  while  Magdalen  and  the  cap- 
tain Wire  waiting  for  her  in  (he  jiarlor,  the 
•(servant  came  in  with  a  note  ii-om  Sea-View 
'Coitagc.  ']"he  nu'ssenger  was  waiting  for  an 
answer,  and  the  note  was  addressed  to  Caj)- 
taiii  Wragge. 

Tiic  captain  opened  the  note  and  road  tliese 
lines  : 

'•  Dlau  Sir — Mi'.  Nool  Vanstnnc  desires  iiic  tn  wiito  nnil 
tell  Vdii  tl-,i»t  )ic  i)i\ii)c  se^!  eliji..vint;  1liis  liin;  iliiy  l>y  tukinj; 
n  I  .I'.J  il.ivc  lo  II  |)l:;ii;  nil  ll.i'  i.(>;iiil  lieie  ciilled  I)iiinvii:i 
III'  \ti  uuxiims  til  liiiiiw  if  yon  will  slian;  tlio  u.\]ii'iise  ol  a 
c:iriiiit;c  iinii  (live  liini  tlii;  iilcnMiif  of  yi)i:r  company  :niil 
MiH.s  Hyjrravi'B  company  oti  tliis  e.V(.iiiNioii.  I  am  kiiuDy 
[ici  iiiitliMl  to  111!  one  of  till'  iiaily.  ami  if  I  may  nay  so 
viilioiit  iin|irii)iricty.  I  wouH  vi'iilnie  to  aiUI  lliat  1  siiall 
fci'l  as  iiiiicli  iiii-nsiiii!  as  my  niaslfi'  if  yon  ami  yonc  yoiiii;; 
laily  will  consent  to  join  us.  We  piopuso  leaving  AM- 
liuroiitjli  jiiiiiiliially  at  eleven  o'clock. 

•'  lielieve  me,  dear  Sir,  your  linmblc  servant, 

'■  ViiiGlMt:  Lr.coUNT." 

"  Wl  o  is  the  letter  from?"  asked  Magda- 
len, noticing  a  change  in  Captain  Wragge's 
fact'  as  he  1  cad  it.  '■  What  do  they  want  with 
us  at  Sea-View  Cottage  V  " 

'•  Pardon  me,"  said  the  captain,  gravely, 
"  this  r(  quires  i  on.^ideration.  Let  me  have  a 
minute  or  two  to  think. ' 

lie  took  a  few  turns  uj)  and  clown  the  room 
—  tl\en  suddenly  stepped  aside  to  a  table  in  a 
corner,  on  Aviiith  his  writing  materials  were 
placed.  "  I  was  i  ot  born  yesterday  ma'am!  " 
said  tlie  captain,  speaking  jocosely  to  liimself 
He  winked  his  brown  eye,  took  up  his  pen, 
nud  wrote  the  answer. 


"  Can  you  speak  now  ?"  inquired  Magdalen, 
when  tlie  servant  had  left  the  room.  "  What 
does  tliat  letlersav,andhow  have  you  answered 
it  ?  " 

The  captain  placed  the  letter  in  her  hand. 
"  I  have  accepteil  the  invitation,"  hv.  replied, 
quietly. 

Magdalen  read  the  Iftter.  "  Hidden  enmity 
yesterday,"  she  said,  "  and  open  friendship  to- 
day.    What  iloi'S  it  mean  ?  " 

*' Jt  means,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  "that 
Mrs.  Lecount  is  even  sharper  than  1  ihouiht 
liiT.      She  has  found  you  out."  ^ 

"Impossible!"  cried  Magdalen.  "Quite 
impos.sible  in  the  time." 

"  1  can't  say  htiw  she  has  found  you  out," 
proL-eeded  the  captain,  with  perfect  compos- 
ure. "She  nuiy  know  more  of  your  \oico 
than  we  supposed  she  knew.  Or  she  miy 
have  thought  us,  on  reflection,  rather  a  sus- 
picious family  ;  and  anything  suspicious  in 
which  a  wonuiii  was  concerned  may  have 
taken  her  mind  bai  k  to  that  morning  call  of 
yours  in  Vauxhail  Walk.  Whii  hever  way  it 
may  be,  the  meaning  of  this  sudden  change  is 
clear  enough.  She  has  found  you  out,  and 
she  wants  to  jint  her  disiovcry  to  the  proof 
by  slip[)iiig  in  an  awkward  question  or  two 
under  cover  of  a  little  friendly  talk.  My  ex- 
l)eiience  of  humanity  has  l»i  en  a  varied  one, 
and  Mis.  Leioant  is  not  the  fiist  ,-h:irp  pr.icii- 
tioiicr  in  pctii.-oats  wlioin  I  have  had  lo  deal 
with.  .\ll  tin;  world's  a  stage,  my  dear  girl, 
and  one  of  the  s.-enes  on  our  lictje  stage  is 
shut  in  from  this  moment." 

\\'ith  those  words  he  took  his  cojiy  of 
Joyce's  Scientific  Dialogues  out  olhis  jio.ket. 
"You're  done  with  already,  my  friend!'' 
said  the  captain,  giving  his  useful  inlormatioii 
a  farewell  smack  wilh  iiis  hand,  and  locking  it 
up  in  the  cupboard.  "  Such  i.-^  human  [lopii- 
larity  I  "  continued  the  indomitable  vagationd, 
jiulting  the  key  cheerlully  in  his  j)oiket. 
"  Yesterday  Joyce  was  my  all  in  all.  i'o-day 
J  don't  care  tiiat  ibr  him  !  "  He  snai)[)ed  Ins 
fingers  and  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

•'  1  don"t  understand  you,"  said  Magdalen, 
looking  at  him  angrily.  "  Are  you  le.iviug 
me  to  my  own  resourci-s  for  the  iutiuv  V  " 

"My  dear  girl!"  cried  Captain  AVragge, 
'*  can't  you  aciiistom  yourself  to  my  dasii  ot* 
humor  yet  V  I  have  done  with  my  ready-mado 
science,  simj)ly  because  I  am  tpiite  bii;e  that 
Mrs.  Leiount  lias  done  believing  in  m^. 
Haven't  I  acceiited  the  invitation  to  Diin- 
wich  V  Make  your  mind  ea.<y.  The  help  I 
have  given  you  already  counts  for  uotliiu"- 
compared  with  the  help  I  am  going  to  givu 
you  now.  My  honor  is  concerned  in  bowling 
out  j\Irs.  Lecoiuit.  This  last  move  of  In  rd 
lias  made  it  a  jicrsonal  matter  between  us, 
7'/te  woman  aclutiUi/  .ihinLs  s/ir  ((in  tide  me 
ill.'.'.'"  cried  the  captain,  striking  his  knile- 
handle  on'lhe  talde  in  a  transport  of  viiliiou.s 
indignation.  "  By  licavens,  1  never  was  so 
insulted  belbre  in  my  life !     Draw  your  chair 


144 


NO  NAME. 


in  to  the  table,  my  dear,  and  {jIvc  me  half  a  1 
niinute's  attention  to  what  I  have  to  say  next." 
I^I  ifjdilen   obeyed   him.     Captain    Wrajrge 
cautiously  lowered  his   voice  belore   he  went 
on. 

"  I  have  told  you  all  alonj,"  he  said,  "  the 
one  thinjx  needful  is  never  to  let  Mrs.  Lecount 
catch  you  Avith  your  wits  woo!-i;.uhetin!X.  I 
sav  the  same  after  what  has  h  ipj)ened  this 
morning.  Let  her  suspect  yon  !  J  defy  her 
to  find  a  fragment  of  foundation  for  her  sus- 
picions unless  we  help  her.  ^Ve  sliall  see  to- 
day if  she  has  been  ibolisli  enouL'h  to  betray 
lierself  to  her  master  before  she  has  any  facts 
to  support  her.  I  doui)t  it.  If  she  has  told 
liim,  we  will  rain  down  proofs  of  our  identity 
■with  the  Bygraves  on  his  feeble  little  head  till 
it  absolutely  aches  with  conviction.  You  have 
two  tliinifs  to  do  on  this  excursion.  First,  to 
•  listrust  every  word  ]\Irs.  Leconntsays  to  you. 
Secondly,  to  exert  all  your  f  iscin.itions,  and 
UKike  sure  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanston  •,  dating  f  om 
to-dav.  I  will  give  you  the  opp(jrtunity  when 
Ave  leave  the  eari'iage  and  take  our  walk  at 
Dunwich.  Wear  your  hat,  wear  your  smile; 
do  your  figure  justice,  lace  tight ;  put  on  your 
neati'.«'t  boots  and  biigiitest  gloves;  lie  the 
miserable  little  Avretch  to  your  apron-string  — 
tie  him  fast;  and  leave  the  whole  manage- 
ment of  this  matter  after  that  to  me.  Steady  ! 
lierii  is  ]\Irs.  Wragge:  Ave  must  be  doubly  care- 
ful in  looking  after  her  uoav.  Show  me  your 
cap,  Mrs.  Wragge!  show  me  your  shoes! 
"What  do  I  see  on  vonr  apron  ?  A  spot  ?  1 
Avon't  have  spots  !  Take  it  oil"  after  bi-eak- 
fiist  and  put  on  another.  Pidl  }  our  chair  to 
the  middle  of  the  table  —  more  to  the  left  — 
more  still.     ^lake  the  breakfast." 

At  a  (juarter  before  ele\in  Mrs.  AVragge 
(with  her  own  entire  concurrence)  Avas  dis- 
mi.ssed  to  the  back  j-oom,  to  bewililer  herself 
over  the  science  of  dress-making  lor  the  rest 
of  the  day.  Punctually  as  the  clock  struck 
the  hour  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master  drovi^ 
lip  to  the  gate  of  North  Shingles,  and  found 
]\Iagdahii  and  Captain  Wragge  Avaiting  tor 
them  in  the  garden. 

On  the  Avay  to  DunAvich  nothing  occurred 
to  disturb  the  enjoyment  of  the  driv(>.  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  Avas  in  excellent  health  and 
high  good  humor.  Lecount  had  apologized 
for  the  little  misunderstanding  of  the  previous 
night;  Lecount  hail  petitioned  lor  the  excur- 
sion as  a  treat  to  herself.  He  thought  of  these 
concessions,  and  looked  at  Magdalen,  and 
smirked  ami  simpereil  Avithout  intermission. 
Mrs.  Lecount  acted  her  part  to  perfection. 
She  Avas  motherl}-  Avith  Magdalen,  and  tender- 
ly attentive  to  Noel  Vanstone.  She  Avas  deeply 
interested  in  Captain  Wragge's  conversation, 
and  meekly  disappointed  to  find  it  turn  on 
general  subjects  to  the  exclusion  of  science. 
Not  a  Avord  or  look  escaped  her  which  hinted 
in  the  remotest  degree  at  her  real  purpose. 
She  Avas  dressed  Avith  her  customary  elegance 
and  propriety ;  and  she  Avaa  the  only  one  of 


the  party  on  that  sultry  summer's  day  Avho 
was  perfectly  cool  in  the  hottest  part  of  lUo 
journey.  ■         ■  '^ 

As  they  left  the  carriage  on  their  arrival  at     I 
DunAvich  the  captain  seized  a  moment  when     1 
Mis.  Lecount  s  eye  was  oil"  him,  and  fortified 
Magdalen  by  a  last  warning  word. 

'•'Ware  the  cat!"  he  Avhispered.  "She 
Avill  show  her  claws  on  the  Avay  back. ' 

'Ihey  left  the  village  and  Avalked  to  the 
ruins  ol' a  convent  near  at  han<l — the  last  reiie 
of  the  once  populous  City  of  Dunwich,  which 
has  survived  tlie  destruction  of  the  place  cen- 
turies since  by  the  all-devouring  sea.  Alter 
looking  at  the  ruins  they  sought  the  shade  of 
a  little^ AVOo<l  between  the  village  and  the  low 
sand  hills  Avhicli  overlook  the  Uermau  Ocean. 
Here  Captain  Wraggt;  manoiuvred  so  as  to  let 
Magdalen  and  Noel  Vanstone  advance  somu 
disiance  in  front  of  Mrs.  Lecount  and  liiiiiiclf 
—  look  the  wrong  path,  and  immeiliately  losti 
his  way  with  the  mojt  consummate  dexterity. 
After  a  few  minutes  Avandeiiug  (in  the  wi'ong 
direction)  he  reached  an  open  space  near  the 
sea,  and,  politely  opening  hia  camp-stool  lor  the 
housekeeper's  act  onunudatioii,  piopoocU  wail- 
iiii;  Aviiere  they  were  until  the  missing  iikiii- 
bers  of  the  party  came' that  way  and  dij^o.\red 
tin  m. 

Mrs.  Lecount  accepted  the  proposal.  S:i<! 
Avas  peri'ectly  well  aware  that  tier  escoit  had 
lost  himself  on  purpose;  but  that  discovery 
exercisctl  no  disturbing  inlluence  on  ihe  smootli 
amiability  of  her  manner.  Her  day  of  jvck- 
oniiig  with  the  captain  had  not  come  yet — she 
merely  added  the  new  item  to  her  list,  and 
availed  herself  of  the  camp-stool.  Captain 
Wragge  stretched  himself  in  a  romantic  atti- 
tude at  her  feet;  and  the  two  determined  ene- 
mies (grouped  like  two  lovers  in  a  j)ictiire) 
fell  into  as  i;asy  and  pleasant  a  conversation 
as  if  they  had  been  friends  of  twenty  yeai'S 
standing. 

"  1  know  you,  ma'am  !"'  thought  the  cajjtain, 
Avhiie  j\lr.s.  J^ecount  was  talking  to  him.  "  You 
would  like  to  catch  me  lrij)ping  in  my  n-ady- 
made  science,  and  you  wouldn't  object  to 
drown  me  in  the  Pioi'essor's  Tank  !" 

"You  villain  Avith  llie  brown  eye  and  the 
greien  ! '  thought  iSlrs.  Lecount,  as  tlie  captain 
caught  the  ball  of  conversation  in  his  turn  ; 
'•  thick  as  your  skin  is,  1  '11  sting  you  through 
it  yet !" 

In  this  frame  of  mind  toArard  each  other, 
they  talked  tluently  on  general  subjects — on 
public  atlairs,  on  local  scenery,  on  society  in 
Lngland  ami  society  in  Switzerland,  on  health, 
climate,  books,  marriage,  and  money  —  talked 
Avitliout  a  moment's  pause,  Avithout  a  single 
misunderstanding  on  either  side,  for  nearly  an 
hour  before  Magdalen  and  Noel  Van>tone 
strayed  that  Avay  and  made  the  party  of  i'om' 
complete  again. 

When  they  reached  the  inn  at  Avhich  the 
carriage  Avas  Avaiting  lor  them.  Captain 
AVragge   left   Sir's.    Lecount   in    undisturbed 


NO  NAME. 


14& 


possession  of  her  master,  and  signed  to  Mag- 
dalen to  drop  back  for  a  moment  and  speak 
to  him. 

"Well?"  asked  the  captain  in  a  whisper; 
"  is  he  fast  to  your  apron-string  ?" 

She  shudde-red  from  head  to  foot  as  she 
answered. 

"  He  has  kissed  my  hand,"  she  said.  "  Does 
that  tell  you  enough?  Don't  let  him  sit  next 
me  on  tlie  way  home  !  I  have  borne  all  I  can 
bear — spare  me  for  tlie  rest  of  the  day." 

"  I  'II  put  you  on  the  front  seat  of  the  car- 
riage," replied  the  captain,  "side  by  side  with 
me." 

On  the  journey  back  Mrs.  Lecount  verified 
Captain  Wragge's  prediction.  She  showed 
her  claws. 

The  time  could  not  have  been  better  chosen; 
the  circumstanrc's  could  hardly  have  favored 
her  more.  IMagdalen's  spirits  were  depressed  ; 
slie  was  weary  in  body  and  mind;  and  she. sat 
exactly  opposite  the  housekeeper  —  who  had 
been  compelled  by  the  new  arrangement  to 
occupy  tlie  seat  of  honor  next  her  master. 
With  every  lacility  for  observing  tlie  slightest 
changes  that  passed  over  Magdalen's  face, 
Mrs.  Lecount  tried  her  first  experiment  by 
leading  the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  Lon- 
don, and  to  the  relative  advantages  offered  to 
residents  by  the  various  quarters  of  the  me- 
tropolis on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The  ever- 
ready  \Vraggc  ]>enetrated  her  intention  sooner 
than  she  iiad  anticipated,  and  interposed  im- 
mediately. "  You  're  coming  to  Vauxhall 
Walk,  ma'am,"  tiiought  the  captain  ;  "  I  '11  get 
there  bi-fore  j-on." 

He  entered  at  once  into  a  purely  fictitious 
description  of  the  various  (juarters  of  London 
in  which  he  liad  himsi'lf  resided,  and  adroitly 
mentioning  Vauxhall  Walk  as  one  of  them, 
saved  Magdalen  from  the  suddtjn  (piestion  re- 
lating to  that  very  locality  with  which  ]\Irs. 
Lecount  had  propo.scd  startling  her  to  begin 
with.  From  his  residences  ke  ])assed  smoothly 
to  hiipself.  and  poured  his  whole  family  history 
(in  the  character  of  Mr.  Bygrave)  into  the 
housekeeper's  ears  —  not  forgetting  his  broth- 
er's grave  in  Honduras,  with  the  monument  by 
the  selt-taught  negro  artist,  and  his  brother's 
hugely  corpident  widow,  on  the  ground-floor 
of  the  boarding-house  at  Cheltenham.  As  a 
means  o'"  giving  Magdalen  time  to  compose 
herself  this  outburst  of  autobiographical  infor- 
mation attained  its  object,  but  it  answered  no 
other  purpose.  Mrs.  Lecount  listened,  with- 
out being  imposed  on  by  a  single  word  the 
captain  said  to  her.  He  merely  confirmed  her 
conviction  ol'  the  hoj)elessness  of  taking  Noel 
Vanstone  into  iier  confidence  before  she  had 
facts  to  help  her  against  Captain  Wragge's 
otherwise  unassailable  position  in  the  identity 
which  he  liad  assumetj.  She  quietly  waited 
until  lie  had  done,  and  then  returned  to  the 
charge. 

"  It  is  a  coincidence  that  your  uncle  should 
once  have  resided  in  Vauxhall  Walk,"  ahe 
19 


said,  addressing  herself  to  Magdalen.  "  My 
master  has  a  house  in  the  same  place ;  and  we 
lived  there  bc'fore  we  came  to  Aldborough. 
May  I  inquire,  Miss  Bygrave,  whether  you 
know  anything  of  a  lady  named  Miss  Garth?" 

This  time  she  put  the  question  before  the 
captain  could  interfere.  Magdalen  ought  to 
have  been  prepared  for  it  by  what  had  already 
passed  in  her  presence  ;  but  her  nerves  had 
been  shaken  by  the  earlier  events  of  the  day, 
and  she  could  only  answer  the  cpiestion  in  the 
negative,* after  an  instants  preliminary  pause 
to  control  herself.  Her  hesitation  was  of  too 
momentary  a  nature  to  attract  the  attention 
of  any  unsuspicious  person.  But  it  lasted  long 
enough  to  eon  firm  Mrs.  l.,ecount's  private  con- 
vietions,  and  to  encourage  her  to  advance  a 
little  further. 

"  I  only  asked."  she  continued,  steadily  fi.x- 
ing  her  eyes  on  Magdalen,  steadily  disregard- 
in<r  the  eilbrts  which  Captain  Wragge  made 
to  join  in  the  conversation,  "  because  Miss 
Garth  is  a  str.inger  to  me,  and  I  am  curious  to 
find  out  what  I  can  about  her.  The  day  before 
we  lell  town.  Miss  Bygrave,  a  person  who  pre- 
sented herself  under  the  name  I  have  men- 
tioned, paid  us  a  visit  under  very  extraordinarv 
circumstances." 

With  a  smooth,  ingratiating  manner,  with  a 
refinement  of  contempt  that  was  little  less 
than  devilish  in  its  ingenious  assumption  of 
tlie  language  of  pity,  s!ie  now  boldly  described 
j\Iagdalen's  appearance  in  disguise,  in  Magda- 
len's own  presence.  She  sliglilingly  referred 
to  the  master  and  mistress  of  Combe-Raven  as 
jiersons  who  had  always  annoyed  the  elder 
and  more  respectable  branch  of  the  family  ; 
she  mourned  over  the  chihlren  as  following 
their  parents'  examph;,  and  attempting  to 
take  a  mercenary  advantage  of  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  under  the  protection  of  a  respect- 
able person's  character  and  a  respectable  per- 
son's name.  Cleverly  including  her  master  in 
the  conversation,  so  as  to  prevent  the  captain 
from  elTecting  a  diversion  in  that  quarter; 
sparing  no  petty  aggravation,  striking  at  every 
tender  place  which  the  tongue  of  a  spiteful 
woman  can  wound,  she  would  beyond  all 
doubt  have  carried  her  point,  and  tortured 
Magdalen  into  openly  betraying  herself,  if 
Captain  Wragge  had  not  checked  her  in  full 
career  by  a  loud  exclamation  of  alarm  and  a 
sudden  clutch  at  Magdalen's  wrist. 

''  Ten  tliousand  pardons,  my  dear  madam! ' 
cried  the  captain.  "  I  see  in  my  niece's  face, 
I  feel  in  my  niece's  pulse,  that  one  of  her 
violent  neuralgic  attacks  has  come  on  again. 
My  dear  girl,  why  hesitate  among  friends  to 
confess  that  you  are  in  pain  ?  What  mistimed 
politeness  !  Her  face  shows  she  is  suffering — 
doesn't  it,  Mrs.  Lecount  ?  Darting  pains,  Mr. 
Vanstone,  <lartiiig  pains  on  the  left  side  of  the 
head.  Pull  down  your  veil,  my  dear,  and  lean 
on  me.  Our  friends  will  excii.se  you  —  our 
excellent  friends  will  exeuse  you  for  the  rest 
of  the  dav." 


146 


JQ^O  NAME. 


Before  Mrs.  Lecount  could  throw  an  in- 
stant's doubt  on  the  genuineness  of  the  neu- 
ralgic attack  her  mastei's  fidgety  sympathy 
declared  itself,  exactly  as  the  captain  had  an- 
ticipated, in  the  most  active  manii'estations. 
lie  stopped  the  carriage,  and  insisted  on  an 
immediate  change  in  tlie  arrangement  of  the 
places  —  the  comfortable  back  seat  for  Miss 
Bygrave  and  her  uncle,  the  front  seat  for  Le- 
count and  himself.  Had  Lecount  got  her 
smelling-bottle?  Excellent  creature!  Let 
)icr  give  it  directly  to  Miss  Bygrave,  and  let 
the  coaclinian  drive  carefully.  If  the  coach- 
man shook  Miss  Bygi-.-^ve  he  should  not  l)ave  a 
half-penny  for  himself.  Mesmerism  was  fre- 
quently useful  in  these  cases.  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  father  had  been  the  most  powerful 
mesmerist  in  Europe,  and  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
was  his  father's  son.  Might  he  mesmerize. 
IMight  he  order  that  infernal  coachman  to 
draw  up  in  a  shady  place  adapted  for  the  pur- 
pose ?  Would  medical  help  he  preferred  ? 
Could  medical  help  be  found  any  nearer  than 
Aldborongh  ?  That  ass  of  a  coachman  didn't 
know.  Stop  every  respectable  man  who  pass- 
e!  in  a  gig,  and  ask  him  if  he  was  a  doctor! 
80  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  ran  on — with  bi'ief  in- 
tervals for  breathing-time — in  a  continually 
ascending  scale  of  sympathy  and  self-impor- 
TaTwe  throughout  the  diive  home. 

Mrs.  Lecount  accepted  her  defeat  without 
uttering  a  word.  From  the  moment  when 
Captain  Wi-agge  interrupted  her  her  thin  lips 
closed,  and  ojiened  no  more  for  the  remainder 
6i'  the  joui'ney.  The  warmest  expressions  of 
her  master's  anxiety  for  the  suffering  young 
l."idy  provoked  from  her  no  outward  nuvnifes- 
tation  of  anger.  She  took  as  little  notice  of 
him  as  possible.  She  j)aid  no  attention  what- 
ever to  the  captain,  whose  exasperating  con- 
sideration for  his  vaiu|uished  enemy  made  him 
more  polite  to  her  than  ever.  The  nearer 
and  the  nearer  they  got  to  Aldborough,  the 
more  and  more  fixedly  Mrs.  Lecount's  hard 
black  eyes  looked  at  Magdalen  reclining  on 
the  opposite  seat,  with  her  eyes  closed  and  her 
veil  down. 

It  was  only  when  the  carriage  stopped  at 
North  Shingles,  and  when  Captain  Wragge 
was  iianding  Magdalen  out,  that  the  house- 
keeper at  last  condescended  to  notice  him. 
As  he  smiled  and  took  off  his  hat  at  the  car- 
riage-door the  strong  restraint  she  had  laid  on 
herself  suddenly  gave  way,  and  she  flashed 
one  look  at  him  which  scorched  up  the  cap- 
tain's politeness  on  the  s])ot.  He  turned  at 
once,  with  m  hasty  acknowledgment  of  Noel 
Vanstone's  last  sympathetic  inquiries,  and 
took  Magdalen  Into  the  house. 

"  I  told  you  she  would  show  her  claws,"  he 
said.  "It  is  not  my  fault  that  she  scratched 
you  before  I  could  stop  her.  She  hasn't  hurt 
you,  has  she  V" 

"  She  has  hurt  me  to  some  purpose,"  said 
Magdalen — "  she  has  given  me  the  courage  to 
go  on.     Say  what  must  be  done  to-morrow, 


and  trust  me  to  do  it.''  She  sighed  heavily 
as  she  said  those  v>ords,  and  went  up  to  her 
room. 

Captain  Wragge  walked  meditatively  into 
the  parlor  and  sat  down  to  consider.  He  felt 
by  no  means  so  certain  as  he  could  have 
wished  of  the  next  proceeding  on  the  part  of 
the  enemy  after  the  defeat  of  that  day.  The 
housekeeper's  farewell  look  had  plainly  in- 
formed him  that  she  was  not  at  the  end  of  her 
resources  yet,  and  the  old  militia-man  felt  the 
full  importance  of  preparing  himself  in  good 
time  to  meet  the  next  step  which  she  took  in 
advance.  He  lit  a  cigar,  and  bent  his  wary 
mind  on  the  dangei's  of  the  future. 

While  Captain  Wragge  was  considering  in 
the  parlor  at  North  Shingles,  Mrs.  Lecount 
was  meditatitig  in  her  bedroom  at  Sea- View. 
Her  exasperation  at  the  failure  of  her  first  at- 
tempt to  expose  the  conspiracy  had  not  blind- 
ed her  to  the  instant  necessity  of  making  a 
second  effort  before  Noel  Vanstone's  growing 
infatuation  got  beyond  her  control.  The 
snare  set  for  Mag<ialen  having  failed,  the 
chance  of  entrapping  Magilalen's  sister  was 
the  next  chance  to  try.  Mrs.  I^-count  ordered 
a  cup  of  tea,  opened  her  writing-case,  and  be- 
gan the  rough  draught  of  a  letter  to  be  sent 
to  Miss  Vanstone  the  elder  by  the  morrow's 
post. 

So  the  day's  skirmish  ended.  The  heat  of 
the  battle  was  vet  to  come. 


CHAPTER  VL 

All  human  penetration  has  its  limits.  Ac- 
curately as  Caj)tain  Wragge  had  seen  his  way 
hitherto,  even  his  sliarp  insiglit  was  now  at 
fault.  Pie  finished  his  cigar  with  the  mortify- 
ing conviction  that  he  was  totally  unprepared 
for  Mrs.  Lecount's  next  proceeding. 

In  this  emergency  his  experience  warned 
him  that  there  Was  one  safe  course,  and  one 
only,  which  he  could  take.  He  resolved  to 
try  the  confusing  effect  on  the  housekeeper  of 
a  complete  ciiange  of  tactics  before  she  had 
time  to  press  her  advantage  and  attack  him 
in  the  dark.  With  this  view  he  sent  the  ser- 
vant up  stairs  to  request  that  Miss  Bygrave 
would  come  down  and  speak  to  him. 

"  I  hope  I  don't  disturb  you."  said  the  cap- 
tain when  Magdalen  entered  the  room.  "Al- 
low me  to  apologize  for  the  sniell  of  tobacco, 
and  to  say  two  words  on  the  subject  of  our 
next  proceedings.  To  put  it  with  my  custom- 
ary frankness,  Mrs.  Lecount  puzzles  me,  and 
I  propose  to  return  the  compliment  by  puz- 
zhng  her.  The  course  of  action  which  I  have 
to  suggest  is  a  very  simple  one.  I  have  had 
the  honor  of  giving  you  a  severe  neuralgic 
attack  already,  and  I  beg  your  permission 
(when  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  sends  to  Inquire 
to-morrow  morning)  to  take  the  further  lib- 
erty of  laying  you  up  altogether.     Question 


NO  NAME. 


147 


from  Sea-View  Cottaje:  'How  is  Miss  By- 
{Ti-avo  this  morning?'  Answer  fi'om  Xortli 
Shinirles:  '  Mucli  worse;  Miss  Bygrave  is 
confined  to  her  room.'  Question  repeat(Hl 
evcrv  dav,  say  ibr  a  fortniglit :  '  How  is  ]\liss 
Bvrave  ?'  Answer  repi-nlcd,  it'  neeessary. 
for  tile  same  time :  '  No  better.'  Can  you 
bear  the  imprisonment?  I  see  no  objection 
to  your  getting  a  breath  of  fresh  air  the  first 
tiling  in  the  morning  or  the  last  tiling  at 
nii::iit.  But  for  the  whole  of  the  day,  there  is 
no  disguising  it,  you  must  put  yourself  in  the 
same  eategoiy  with  jNIrs.  Wragge  —  you  must 
keep  your  room." 

"  What  is  your  object  in  wisliing  me  to  do 
this  V  incjuired  MagdaU-n. 

"  My  object  is  twofold,"  replied  tlie  cap- 
tain. "  I  blusli  for  my  own  stupidity  ;  liut  the 
fact  is,  I  can  t  see  my  way  plainly  tt)  JMrs.  Le- 
count's  iie.vt  move.  All  I  feci  sure  of  is,  that 
slie  means  to  make  anotlier  attempt  at  open- 
ing her  master's  eyes  to  tlie  truth.  Whatever 
means  slw  may  employ  to  discover  your  iden- 
tity, i)ersonal  communication  with  you  viti.tt 
be  necessary  to  the  accomplishment  of  her 
object.  Very  good.  If  I  stop  that  communi- 
cation, I  put  an  obstacle  in  her  way  at  start- 
ing— or,  as  we  say  at  cards,  I  force  her  hand. 
Do  vou  see  the  point?" 

Magdalen  saw  it  jilainly.  The  captain  went 
on  : 

"  jMy  second  reason  for  shutting  you  up,"  he 
said,  "  refc!-s  <Mitirely  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  mas- 
ter. Tlie  growth  of  love,  my  dear  girl,  is,  in 
one  respect,  unlike  all  other  growths  —  it 
nourishes  under  adverse  circumstances.  Our 
first  course  of  action  is  to  make  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  feel  tlie  charm  of  your  society.  Our 
iie.xt  is  to  drive  him  distracted  by  the  loss  of 
it.  I  should  have  proposed  a  few  more  meet- 
ings, witli  a  view  to  furthering  this  end,  but 
lor  our  present  critical  position  toward  l\Irs. 
Lecount.  As  it  is,  we  must  trust  to  the  effect 
you  produced  yesterday,  and  try  the  experi- 
ment (n  a  sudden  separation  rather  .sooner 
than  I  could  liave  otherwise  wished.  I  shall 
see  ]\Ir.  Noel  Vanstone,  though  you  don  t  — 
and  if  there  »'.«  a  raw  place  established  any- 
where about  the  region  of  that  gentleman's 
heart,  trust  me  to  hit  him  on  it  I  You  are 
now  ill  lull  possession  of  my  views.  Take 
your  time  to  consider,  and  give  me  your  an- 
swer— Yes  or  No." 

'"Any  eiiange  is  for  the  better,"  said  Magda- 
len," *•  whicii  keeps  me  out  of  tlie  company  of 
Mrs.  Lecount  and  lier  master !  Let  it  be  as 
you  wish." 

She  had  hitherto  answered  faintly  and  wea- 
rily ;  but  she  spoke  those  last  words  with  a 
heightened  tone  and  a  rising  color  —  signs 
which  warned  Captain  Wragge  not  to  press 
her  farther. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  captain.  "  As  usual, 
we  understand  each  other.  I  sec  you  are 
tired,   and  I   won't  detain   you  any  longer." 

He  rose  to  open  the  door,  stopped  hall-way 


to  it,  and  came  back  again.  "  Leave  me  to 
arrange  matters  with  tlie  servant  down  stairs," 
he  continued.  "  You  can't  absolutely  keep 
your  bed,  and  wc  must  purchase  tiie  girl's 
discretion  when  she  answers  the  door — with- 
out taking  her  into  our  confidence,  of  course. 
I  will  make  her  understand  that  she  is  to  say 
you  are  ill,  just  as  she  miglit  say  you  are  not 
at  home,  as  a  way  of  keeping  unwelcome 
accjuaintances  out  of  the  house.  Allow  mo 
to  open  the  door  for  you.  I  beg  your  p.irvlon, 
you  are  going  into  Mrs.  Wragne's  workroom 
instead  of  going  to  your  own." 

"I  know  I  am."  said  ^Lygdalen.  '•!  wish 
to  remove  Mrs.  Wragge  from  the  worst  room 
in  the  house,  and  to  take  her  up  stairs  with 
me." 

"  For  the  evening?" 

"  For  the  whole  ibrtnight." 

Ca[)tain  Wragge  (bllowed  her  into  tlie  din- 
ing-room, and  wisely  closed  the  door  before 
he  spoke  again. 

"  Do  you  seriously  mean  to  indict  my  wife's 
society  on  yourself  ibr  a  fortnight?"  he  asked, 
in  great  surjirise. 

"  Your  wife  is  the  only  innocent  creature 
in  this  guilty  house,"  she  burst  out,  vehe- 
mently. "  I  must  and  will  have  her  with 
me  !" 

"  Praj-  don't  agitate  yourselt',"  said  tiie  cap- 
tain. '•  Take  Mrs.  Wragge,  by  all  niean.s.  I 
don't  want  her."  ILaving  resigned  the  partner 
of  his  existence  in  those  terms,  he  discreetly 
returned  to  the  parlor.  "  The  weak  miss  of 
the  sex  I"  thought  the  captain,  tapping  his 
sagacious  head.  "  Lay  a  strain  on  ttie  iemalc 
intellect,  and  the  female  temper  gives  way 
directly. ' 

The  strain  to  which  the  captain  alluded 
was  not  confined  that  evening  to  the  female 
intellect  at  North  Shingles:  it  extended  to 
the  female  intellect  at  Sea-View.  For  nearly 
two  hours  Mrs.  Ivccount  sat  at  her  desk, 
writing,  correcting,  and  writing  again,  before 
she  conhi  produei;  a  letter  to  Mis?  Vanstone 
the  elder  which  exactly  accoinplished  the  ob- 
ject she  wanted  to  attain.  At  last  the  rough 
draught  was  completed  to  her  satisfaetion, 
and  she  made  a  fair  copy  of  It  forthwith,  to 
be  posted  the  next  day. 

Her  letter  thus  jn-oluced  was  a  masterpiece 
of  ingenuity.  After  the  first  prelinunary 
sentences  the  housekeeper  plainly  iidbrmed 
Norah  of  the  a|)pearanee  of  the  visitor  in 
disguise  at  Vanxhail  Walk;  of  the  conversa- 
tion which  passed  at  the  interview  ;  and  of 
her  own  suspicion  that  the  person  claiming  to 
be  Miss  (iartli  was,  in  ail  probability,  the 
younger  Miss  Vanstone  herself  Having  told 
the  truth  thus  far,  Mrs.  Lecount  next  pro- 
ceeded to  say  that  her  master  was  in  posses- 
sion of  evidence  which  would  justify  him  in 
putting  the  law  in  force;  that  he  knew  the 
conspiracy  with  which  he  was  threatened  to 
b«  then  in  process  of  direction  against  him  at 


14$ 


NO  NAME. 


Aldborough ;  and  that  he  only  hesitated  to 
protect  himself  in  deference  to  family  consid- 
erations, and  in  the  hope  that  the  elder  Mi?s 
Vanstone  mi^'ht  so  influence  her  sister  as  to 
render  it  unnecessary  to  proceed  to  extremi- 
ties. 

Under  these  circumstances  (the  letter  con- 
tinued) it  was  plainly  necessary  that  the  dis- 
guised visitor  to  Vauxhall  Walk  should  be 
properly  identified  —  for  if  Mrs.  Locount's 
guess  proved  to  be  wrong,  and  if  the  person 
turned  out  to  be  a  stranger,  Mr.  Noel  Yan- 
stone  was  positively  resolved  to  prosecute  in 
his  own  defense.  Events  at  Aldborough,  on 
which  it  was  not  necessary  to  dwell,  would 
enable  Mrs.  Lecount  in  a  few  days  to  gain 
sight  of  the  suspected  person  in  her  own 
character.  But  as  the  housekeeper  was  en- 
tirely unacquainted  with  the  younger  Miss 
Vanstone,  it  was  obviously  desirable  that  some 
better-informed  person  should,  in  this  particu- 
lar, take  the  matter  in  hand.  If  the  elder 
Miss  Vanstone  happened  to  be  at  liberty  to 
come  to  Aldborough  herself,  would  she  kindly 
write  and  say  so?  and  Mrs.  Lecount  would 
write  back  again  to  appoint  a  day.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  Miss  Vanstone  was  prevented  from 
taking  the  journey,  Mrs.  Lecount  suggested 
that  her  reply  should  contain  the  fullest  de- 
scription of  her  sister's  personal  appeai-ance — 
should  mention  any  little  peculiarities  whicli 
might  exist  in  the  way  of  marks  on  her  face 
or  her  hands  —  and  should  state  (in  case  she 
had  written  lately)  what  the  address  was  in 
her  last  letter,  and  failing  that,  what  the  post- 
mark on  the  envelope.  With  this  informa- 
tion to  help  her,  Mrs.  Lecount  would,  in  the 
interest  of  the  misguided  young  lady  herself, 
accept  the  responsibility  of  privately  identi- 
fying her;  and  would  write  back  immediately 
to  acquaint  the  elder  Miss  Vanstone  with  the 
result. 

The  difficulty  of  sending  this  letter  to  the 
rinfht  address  gave  Mrs.  Lecount  very  little 
trouble.  Remembering  the  name  of  the  lawyer 
who  had  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  two  sisters 
in  Michael  Vanstone's  time,  she  directed  hwr 

letter  to  "Miss  Vanstone,  care  of Pen- 

dril,  Esquire,  London.'  This  she  inclosed  in 
a  second  envelope,  addressed  to  Mi-.  Noel 
Vanstone's  solicitor,  with  a  line  inside,  i-e- 
questing  that  gentleman  to  send  it  at  once  to 
the  office  of  Mr.  Pendril. 

"Now,"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount,  as  she  locked 
the  letter  up  in  her  desk,  preparatory  to 
posting  it  the  next  day,  with  her  own  hand, 
"  Now  I  have  got  her !'' 

The  next  morning  the  servant  from  Sea- 
View  came,  with  her  master's  compliments, 
to  make  inquiries  after  Miss  Bygrave  s  health. 
Captain  Wragge's  bulletin  was  duly  announc- 
ed —  Miss  Bygrave  was  so  ill  as  to  be  con- 
fined to  her  room. 

On  the  reception  of  this  intelligence,  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  anxiety  led  him  to  call  at 


North  Shingles  himself,  when  he  went  out  for 
his  afternoon  walk.  Miss  Bygrave  was  no 
better.  He  inquired  if  he  could  see  Mr.  By- 
grave.  The  wary  captain  was  prepared  to 
meet  this  emergency.  He  thought  a  little 
irritating  suspense  would  do  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone no  harm  ;  and  he  had  carefully  (-barged 
the  servant,  in  case  of  necessity,  with  her 
answer :  '*  Mr.  Bygrave  begged  to  be  ex- 
cused ;  he  was  not  able  to  see  any  one.' 

On  the  second  day  inquiries  were  made  as 
before,  by  message  in  the  morning,  and  by 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  himself  in  the  afternoon. 
The  morning  answer  relating  to  Magdalen 
was,  "  A  shade  better."  The  afternoon  an- 
swer (relating  to  Captain  Wragge)  was,  "  Mr. 
Bvgrave  has  just  gone  out."  That  evening 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  temper  was  very  uncer- 
tain ;  and  Mrs.  Lecount's  patience  and  tact 
were  sorely  tried  in  the  effort  to  avoid  offend- 
ing him. 

On  the  third  morning  the  report  of  the  suf- 
fering young  lady  was  less  favorable — "Miss 
Bygrave  was  still  very  poorly,  and  not  able  to 
leave  her  bed."  The  servant,  returning  to 
Sea-View  with  this  message,  met  the  postman, 
and  took  into  the  breakfast-room  with  her  two 
letters  addressed  to  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  first  letter  was  in  a  handwriting  familiar 
to  the  housekeeper.  It  was  from  the  medical 
attendant  on  her  invalid  brother  at  Zurich ; 
and  it  announced  that  the  patient's  malady  had 
latterly  altered  in  so  marked  a  manner  for  the 
better  that  there  was  every  hope  now  of  pre- 
serving his  life. 

The  address  on  the  second  letter  was  in  a 
strange  handwi'iting.  Mrs.  Lecount,  conclud- 
ing that  it  was  the  answer  from  Miss  Vanstone, 
waited  to  read  it  until  breakfast  was  over  and 
she  could  retire  to  her  own  room. 

She  opened  the  letter,  looked  at  once  for  the 
name  at  the  end,  and  started  a  little  as  she 
read  it.  The  signature  was  not  "  Norah  Van- 
stone," but  "  Harriet  Garth." 

Miss  Garth's  letter  announced  that  the  elder 
Miss  Vanstone  had,  a  week  since,  accepted  an 
engagement  as  governess — subject  to  the  con- 
dition of  joining  tlie  family  of  her  employer 
at  their  temporary  residence  in  the  south  of 
France,  antl  of  returning  with  them  when  they 
came  back  to  England,  probably  in  a  month 
or  six  weeks  time.  During  tlie  interval  of 
this  necessary  absence  Lliss  Vanstone  had  re- 
quested Miss  Garth  to  open  all  her  letters,  her 
main  object  in  making  that  arrangement  being 
to  provide  for  the  speedy  answering  of  any. 
communication  which  might  arrive  for  her  from 
her  sister.  Miss  Magdalen  Vanstone  had  not 
written  since  the  middle  of  July  —  on  which 
occasion  the  post-mark  on  the  letter  showed 
that  it  must  have  been  posted  in  London,  in 
the  District  of  Lambeth  —  and  her  elder  sister 
had  left  England  in  a  state  of  the  most  dis- 
tressing anxiety  on  her  account. 

Having  completed  this  explanation.   Miss 


NO  NAME. 


149 


Garth  then  mentioned  that  family  circum- 
stances prevented  lier  from  travellinfr  person- 
ally to  Aldl>oroujih  to  assist  Mrs.  Lecount's 
ol>ject,  hut  that  she  was  provided  with  a  sub- 
stitute, in  every  way  fitter  for  the  purpose,  in 
the  person  of  Mr.  Pendril.  Tliat  trentleman 
was  well  acquainted  with  Miss  Majrdalen  Van- 
stone  ;  and  his  proies.-.ional  experience  and 
discj-etion  would  render  liis  assistance  doubly 
valuable.  He  had  kindly  consented  to  travel 
to  Aldboroujzh  whenever  it  mijiht  be  thoujTht 
necessary.  But  as  his  time  was  very  valuable 
Miss  Gai-th  specially  requested  that  he  mi<rht 
not  be  sent  for  until  Mrs.  Lecount  was  (piite 
sure  of  the  day  on  which  his  services  might  be 
rc(|nired. 

\Vhile  proposlnjx  this  arranpMuent  Miss 
(lartli  added  that  she  tbouijht  it  right  to  fur- 
nish her  correspondent  with  a  written  descrip- 
tion of  the  younger  Miss  Vanstone  as  well. 
An  emergency  might  happen  wliich  wouUl 
allow  Mrs.  Lecount  no  time  for  securing  Mr. 
i'didril's  services;  and  the  execution  of  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  intentions  toward  the  un- 
happy girl  who  was  the  object  of  his  forbear- 
ance might  be  fatally  delayed  by  an  unforeseen 
difliculty  in  establishing  her  identity.  The 
personal  desc)'i])tion.  ti-ansmitteil  under  these 
circumstances,  then  followed.  It  omitted  no 
personal  peculiarity  by  which  Magdalen  could 
be  recognized  ;  and  it  included  the  "  two  little 
moles  close  together  on  the  left  sid(.'  of  the 
neck,"  which  had  been  formerly  mentioned  in 
the  print<>d  handbills  sent  to  York. 

In  conclusion,  ISIiss  (iarth  expressed  her 
fears  that  Mrs.  Lecount's  suspifions  were  only 
too  likely  to  be  proved  true.  While,  however, 
there  was  the  faintest  chance  that  the  con- 
spiracy might  turn  out  to  be  directed  by  a 
stranger.  Miss  Garth  felt  bound,  in  gratitude 
toward  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  to  assist  the  legal 
proceedings  which  would  in  that  case  be  in- 
stituted. She  accordingly  appended  her  own 
formal  denial  —  which  she  would  personally 
repeat,  if  necessary — of  any  identity  between 
herself  and  the  person  in  disguise  who  had 
made  use  of  her  name.  She  was  tlu;  Miss 
Garth  who  had  filled  the  situation  of  the  late 
Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's  governess;  and  she  j 
had  never  in  her  life  been  in,  or  isear,  the  i 
neighborhood  of  Vauxhall  Walk. 
'  With  this  disclaimer — and  with  the  writer's 
fervent  fK<surances  that  slie  would  do  all  for 
Magdalen's  advantage  whi(  h  her  sister  n\ight 
have  done  if  her  sister  had  Ik-cu  in  England  — 
the  letter  concludeil.  It  was  siu'iied  in  full, 
and  was  dated  with  the  Ijusiness-like  accuracy 
in  such  matters  which  had  always  distinguished 
Miss  Garth's  character. 

This  letter  placed  a  formidable  weapon  in  the 
housekeeper's  hands. 

It  provided  a  means  of  establishing  Miss 
Bygrave's  identity  through  the  intervention  of 
a  lawyer  by  profession.  It  contained  a  per- 
sonal description  minute  enough  to  be  used  to 


advantage,  if  necessary,  before  Mr.  Pendril's 
appearance.  It  presented  a  signed  exposure 
of  the  false  Miss  Garth,  under  the  hand  of  the 
true  Miss  Garth;  and  it  established  the  fact 
that  the  last  letter  received  by  the  elder  Miss 
Vanstone  from  the  younger  had  been  posted 
(and  therefore  probably  written)  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Vauxhall  Walk.  If  any  later  letter 
had  been  received,  with  the  Aldborough  post- 
mark, the  chiin  of  evidence,  so  far  as  the 
question  of  localities  was  concerned,  might 
doubtle.ss  have  been  more  complete.  But.  as 
it  was,  there  was  testimony  enough  (aided  as 
that  testimony  might  be,  Ijy  the  fragment  of 
the  brown  al])a<'a  dress  still  in  Mrs.  Lecount's 
possession)  to  raise  the  veil  which  hung  over 
the  conspiracy,  and  to  jilace  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone face  to  face  with  the  plain  and  startling 
truth. 

The  one  obstacle  which  now  stood  in  the 
Avay  of  innnediate  action  on  the  housekeeper's 
part  was  the  ob-tacle  of  Miss  Bygrave's  present 
sei-lusion  within  the  limits  of  her  own  room. 
The  question  of  gaining  personal  access  to  her 
was  a  question  which  must  be  decided  before 
any  comnmnication  could  be  opened  with  Mr. 
Pendril.  Mrs.  Lecount  ]iut  on  her  bonnet  at 
once,  and  called  at  North  Shingles  to  try  what 
di.scoveries  she  could  make  ibr  herself  before 
post-time. 

On  this  occasion  Mr.  Bygrave  was  at  home, 
and  she  was  admitted  without  the  least  di(H- 
culty. 

Careful  consideration  that  morning  had  de- 
cided Captain  W'raggc  on  advancing  matters  a 
little  nearer  to  the  crisis.  The  means  by  which 
he  projwsed  achieving  this  result  made  it  nec- 
essary for  him  to  see  the  housekeeper  and  her 
master  separately,  and  to  set  them  at  variamc 
by  producing  two  totally  o])posite  impressions 
relating  to  himself  on  their  minds.  Mrs.  Le- 
count's visit,  therefore,  instead  of  causing  him 
any  embarrassment,  was  the  most  welcome  oc- 
currenre  he  could  have  wislied  for.  He  received 
her  in  the  parlor  with  a  marked  restraint  of 
manner  for  which  she  was  (juite  uni)repared. 
His  ingratiating  smile  was  gone,  and  an  im- 
penetrable solemnity  of  countenance  appeared 
in  its  stead. 

"I  have  ventured  to  intrude  on  you,  Sir." 
saiil  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  to  express  the  regret  with 
which  both  my  mastd-  and  I  have  heard  of 
Miss  Bygrave's  illness.  Is  there  no  improve- 
ment V" 

"  No,  ma'am,"  re])lied  the  captain,  as  briefly 
as  possible  ;  "  my  niece  is  no  better." 

"  I  have  had  some  exi)erience,  Mr.  Bygrave, 
in  nursing.     If  I  could  be  of  any  u.se — " 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Lecount.  There  is  no 
necessity  for  our  taking  advantage  of  your 
kindness." 

This  plain  answer  was  followed  by  a  mo- 
ment's silence.  The  housekeeper  felt  some 
little  perplexity.  What  had  become-  of  Mr. 
Bygrave's  elaborate  courtesy,  and  Mr.  By- 
graves  many  words  ?     Did  he  want  to  offend 


ISO 


NO  NAME. 


her  ?  If  ho  did,  Mrs.  Locount  then  and 
there  determined  that  he  should  not  gain  his 
object. 

"  May  I  inquire  the  nature  of  the  illnes};  ?" 
she  persisted.  "  It  is  not  connected,  I  ,hope, 
Tvitli  our  excursion  to  Dunwich  ?" 

•'  I  regret  to  say,  ma'am,"  replied  the  cap- 
tain, "  it  began  with  that  neuralgic  attack  in 
the  carriage." 

"  So  1  so  !"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  He 
doesn't  even  tn/  to  make  me  think  the  illness 
a  real  one;  he  throws  ofl'  the  mask  at  start- 
ing ! — Is  it  a  nervous  illness,  Sir  V  she  added, 
aloud. 

The  captain  answered  by  a  solemn  affiiina- 
tive  inclination  of  the  head. 

'•  Then  you  have  two  nervous  sufferers  in 
the  house,  ^Ir.  Bvorave  ?" 

_  "  1  es,    ma  am  —  two.     My   wife    and    my 
niece." 

"  That  is  rather  a  strange  coincidence  of 
misfortunes." 

'•  It  is,  ma'am — very  strange." 

In  spite  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  resolution  not  to 
be  olF.nded.  Captain  Wragge's  exasjjcrating 
insensibility  to  every  stroke  she  aimed  at 
him  began  to  ruffle  her.  She  was  conscious 
of  some  little  difficulty  in  secui-ing  her  self- 
posses.vi&n  before  she  could  say  anything 
more. 

'•  Is  there  no  immediate  hope,"'  sli"  resumed, 
"of  Miss  Bx'gravo  being  aole  to  leave;  her 
room  ?■' 

"None  whatever,  ma'am." 

"  You  are  satisfied,  I  supoose,  with  the  med- 
ical attendance  '.■"' 

"  I  have  no  medical  attendance,"  said  the 
captain,  composedlv-  ''  I  watch  the  case  mv- 
self." 

The  gathering  venom  in  Mrs.  Lecount 
swelled  up  at  that  reply,  and  overflowed  at 
her  lips. 

"Your  smattering  of  science,  Sir, '  she  said, 
with  a  malicious  smile,  "  includes,  I  presume, 
a  smattering  of  medicine  as  well  V" 

"  It  does,  ma'am,"  answered  the  captain, 
without  the  slightest  disturbance  of  face  or 
manner.  "  I  know  as  much  of  one  as  I  do  of 
the  other." 

Tiie  tone  in  which  he  spoke  those  words  left 
Mrs.  Lecount  but  one  dignified  alternative. 
She  rosi'  to  terminate  the  interview.  The 
temptation  of  the  moment  proved  too  much 
for  lier,  and  sb.e  could  not  resist  casting  the 
shadow  of  a  threat  over  Captain  Wragge  at 
parting. 

"  I  defer  thanking  you.  Sir,  for  the  manner 
in  which  you  have  received  me,"  she  said, 
'■  until  I  can  pay  my  debt  of  obligation  to 
some  purpose.  In  the  meantime  I  am  glad  to 
infer,  from  the  absence  of  a  medical  attend- 
ant in  the  house,  that  Miss  Bygrave's  illness 
is  much  less  serious  than  I  had  supposed  it  to 
be  when  I  came  here." 

"  I  never  contradict  a  lady,  ma'am,"  re- 
joined the  incorrigible  captain.     "  If  it  is  your 


pleasure,  when  we  next  meet,  to  think  my 
niece  quite  well,  I  shall  bow  resignedly  to  the 
expression  of  your  opinion."  With  those 
words  he  followed  the  housekeeper-  into  the 
passage,  and  politely  opened  the  door  for  her. 
"  I  mark  the  trick,  ma'am !"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  closed  it  again.  "  The  trump-card  in 
your  hand  is  a  sight  of  my  niece,  and  I  '11 
take  care  you  don  t  play  it !" 

He  returned  to  tiie  parlor  and  composedly 
awaited  the  next  event  which  was  likely  to 
happen  —  a  visit  Irom  Mrs.  J^ecount's  master. 
In  less  than  an  hour  results  justified  Captain 
Wragge's  anticipations,  and  ^Ir.  Noel  Van- 
stone  walked  in. 

"  My  dear  Sir !"  cried  the  captain,  cordially 
seizing  his  visitor's  reluctant  hand,  "  I  know 
what  you  have  come  for.     Mrs.  Lecount  has 
told  you  of  her  visit  here,  and  has  no  doubt 
ileciared  that  my  niece's  illness  is  a  mere  sub- 
terfuge.    You  teel  surprised,  you  feel  hurt  — 
you  suspect  me  of  trifling  with  your  kind  sym- 
pathies— in  short,  you  recjuire  an  explanation. 
That  explanation  you  shall  have.    Take  a  seat, 
Mr.  Vanstone.     I  am  about  to  throw  myself 
I  on  your  sense  and  judgment  as  a  man  of  the 
I  worUl.     I  acknowledge  tiiat  Ave  are  in  a  false 
j  position.  Sir;  and  I  tell  you   plainly  at   the 
I  outset  —  your  housekeeper  is  the  cause  of  it." 
I      For  once    in  his   life  Mr.    Noel    Vanstone 
I  opi.-ned  his  eyes.     "  Lecount!  "  he  exclaimed, 
in  the  utmost  bewilderment. 

"  The  same.  Sir,"  replied  Captain  Wragge. 
"  I  am  al'raid  I  oflended  Mrs.  Lecount,  when 
she  came  here  this  morning,  by  a  want  of  cor- 
diality in  my  manner.     I  am  a  plain  man,  and 
1  I  can't  assume  what  I  don't  feel.     Far  be  it 
I  from  me  to  breathe  a  word  against  your  house- 
j  keeper's  characBWH     She  is,  no  doubt,  a  most 
I  excellent    and   trustworthy   woman;    but  she 
I  has  one  serious  failing  (.'ommon  to  persons  at 
i  her  time  oi'  life  who  occupy  her  situation  — 
,  she  is  jealous  of  her  influence  over  her  mas- 
I  ter,  although  you  may  not  have  observed  it." 
i      "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Mr.  Noel 
I  Vanstone ;  "  my  observation    is   remarkably 
j  quick.     Nothing  es;;apes  it." 
I      "In  that  case.   Sir,"  resumed  the  captain, 
!  "  you  can  not  I'ail  to  have  noticed  that  Mrs. 
j  Lecount  has  allowed  her  jealousy  to  affect  her 
i  conduct  toward  my  niece." 
I      Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  thought  of  the  domestic  • 
■  passage-atarms    betwe*;n   Mrs.  Lecount  and 
himself  when  his   guests  of  the  evening  had 
left   Sea-View,  and  failed  to  see  his   way  to 
any  direct  reply.     He  expressed  the  utmost 
surprise  and  distress  —  he  thought  Lecount 
had  done  her  best  to  be  agreeable  on  the  drive 
to   Dunwich  —  he   hoped  and  trusted  there 
was  some  unfortunate  mistake. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say.  Sir,"  pursued  the 
captain,  severely,  "  that  you  have  not  noticed 
the  circumstance  yourself?  As  a  man  of 
honor  and  a  man  of  observation,  you  can't  tell 
me  that  I  Your  housekeeper's  superficial  ci- 
vility has  not  hidden  your  housekeeper's  real 


NO  NAME. 


1*1 


feeling.  My  niece  has  seen  it.  and  so  l)ave 
you,  and  so  have  I.  My  nico(\  Mr.  Vanstone, 
is  a  ,«on!«itive,  hiojh-spiritod  irirl  ;  and  she  has 
positively  declined  to  cultivate  Mrs.  Lecount's 
society  for  the  future.  Don't  misunderstand 
mc  !  To  my  niece,  as  well  as  to  mvself.  tiic 
attraction  of  //»»»•  society,  Mr.  Vanstone,  re- 
mains the  same.  ISIiss  By<;ra^e  sim])!v  de- 
clines to  be  an  apple  of  discoid  (if  you  -will 
I)ermit  the  classical  allusion  ?)  cast  into  vour 
lousehold.  I  think  she  is  rii>ht,  :•(»  far;  and  I 
frankly  confess  that  I  have  e.xajrgeratcd  a 
nervous  indisposition,  from  wliifli  she  is  really 
suflering,  into  a  serious  iihiess  —  ])urclv  and 
entirely  to  jirevent  tliose  two  hadies,  for  the 
present,  from  meeting  iivery  day  on  the  Pa- 
rade, and  fi-om  carrying  unpleasant  impressions 
of  eacli  other  into  your  domestic  establishment 
and  mine." 

"  I  allow  nothing  unpleasant  in  mi/  estab- 
lishment," remarked  Mi-.  Noel  Vanstone. 
"  I  'm  master  —  you  nnist  haw  noticed  that 
already,  Mr.  Bygrave  ?  —  I  ni  master."  I 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  my  dear  Sir.  But  to  live  I 
morning,  noon,  and  night  in  tiie  perpi-iual  '■ 
exercise  of  your  authority  is  more  like  tlie  ' 
life  of  a  governor  of  a  prison  than  the  life  of 
a  master  of  a  household.  The  wear  and  tear  ' 
—  consider  the  wear  and  tear." 

"It    strikes   you    in    tliat    light,   does  it?"[ 
.said  Mr.  Noel   Vanstone,  sootlu-d  by  Captain 
Wragge's  ready  recognition  of  his  authority. 
"  1  don't  know  tliat  you  're  not  right.     But  I 
must  take   some  steps   directly.     I  won't  be  . 
made  ridiculous  —  I   11   send  "j>ecount    away 
altogether  sooner  than   be  made  ridiculous.'' 
His  color  rose;  and   In-  folded  his  little  arms 
fiercely.     Captain  Wraggi-'s  ar)-tfully-irritating 
e.xplauation  had  awakened  ^t  dormant  .sus-  I 
picion  of  his  housekeeper's  iHPiienrt'  over  him 
which  habitually  lay  hidden  in   his  mind,  and  , 
which  Mrs.   Lecount  was  now  not  present  to  i 
charm  back  to  repose  as  usual.     "  What  must  i 
^liss    Bygrave   think  of  me  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
with    a  sudden  outburst  of  ve.xation.     '•  1  'II  | 
send   Lecount  away  —  damme,  I  '11  send  Le- | 
count  away  on  the  spot  I  "  i 

"  No,  no,  no  I  "  said  tin;  captain,  whose  in- 
terest it  was  to  avoid  driving  Mrs.   Lticonut  j 
to  any   de.-perate   extremities.     "  Why   take  | 
strong  measures  when  mild  measures  will  do  V  j 
Mrs.  Lecount  is  an  old  strvunt;  Mr.s.  Lecount ! 
is  attached   and   u.^'fuj.     She.   has   this    little  ! 
drawback  of  jealousy  —  j(.-;d«>usy  of  her  do-  I 
mestic  position  with  her  baciiclor" master.    She  j 
sees  you  paying  courteous  attention  to  a  hand-  | 
some  young  lady  ;  she   sees  tliat  young  lady 
properly  sensil)le   of  your  politeness  —  and,  j 
poor  soul,  she  Io<es  her  temper!     What  is  the 
obvious  remedy  ?     Humor  her  —  make  a  man- 
ly   concession    lo   the    weaker  se.x.     If  Mrs. 
Lecount  is  with  yon  the  next  time  we  meet  on 
the    Parade,    walk    the   other  way.      If  Mi-;.,  j 
Lecount  is  not  with  you,  give  us  the  ])leasure  ' 
of  your  company  by  all  means.     In  short,  mv  ! 
dear   Sir,   try    tiie    finivin-r   iu  motlu   (an  we 


classical  men  say)  before  you  commit  yourself 
to  ihu  j'orlilt^r  m  re  ■'" 

There  was  one   excellent  reason  why  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  should  take  Captain  Wrasrge'a 
conciliatory  advice.     An  open  rupture  "with 
Mrs.  Lecount  —  even  if  he  could  have  sum- 
moned tlie  courage  to  face  it — would  imply 
the  ri'cognition  of  her  claims  lo  a  ))rc)vision  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  services  she  had  ren- 
dered to  his  father  and  to  himself     His  sor- 
did nature   (juailed    within    him    ;>,t   the  bare 
I  prospect   of  expressing  the   emotion  of  grati- 
1  tude    in    a  pecuniary    form;    and,   alter   first 
:  consulting  ajiiiearances  by  a  .^how  of  liesitation, 
he   consented    to  adopt   tlie  captain's  sncrrres- 
tion,  and  to  humor  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  But  I  must  be  considered  in  thi.s  matter," 
proceeded  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  "JMy  eon- 
cession  to  Lecount's  weakness  must  not  bo 
misunderstood.  Mi.ss  Bygrave  must  not  bo 
allowed  to  suppose  I  am  afraid  of  my  house- 
keeper." 

The  captain  dcelarcd  that  no  swclt  idea 
ever  had  entered  or  ever  could  enter  Miss 
Bygrave's  mind.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  returned' 
to  the  subject  nevertheless,  ng:iin  and  jurain 
with  his  customary  pertinacity.  WouliHt  be 
indiscreet  if  he  asked  leave  to  set  himself 
right  personally  with  Miss  Bygrave?  AVas 
thi-re  any  hope  that  he  migiit  h.-ive  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  her  on  that  day  ?  or.  if  not, 
on  the  next  day  ?  or,  if  not,  on  tiie  day  after? 
Captain  Wragge  answered  cautionsly':  h«!  felt 
the  importance  of  not  rousing  Noel  Van- 
strjne's  distrust  by  too  great  an  alacrity  in  com- 
plying with  his  wishes. 

"  An  interview  to-day,  my  dear  Sir,  is  out 
of  the  (pustion,"  he  said.  "  She  is  not  well 
enough ;  she  wants  repose.  To-morrow  I 
propose  taking  her  out  before  the  heat  of  the 
day  begins  —  not  merely  to  avoid  embarrass- 
ment after  what  has  happened  with  ^Irs.  Le- 
count—  but  because  the  morning  air  and  the 
morning  quiet  are  essential  in  t'>e:<e  nervous 
cases.  We  are  early  {>eople  here  —  we  shall 
start  at  seven  o'cliMk.  If  you  are  early  too, 
and  if  you  would  like  to  join  us,  I  need  liardlv 
say  that  m'c  can  feel  no  objection  to  vour  cooi- 
pany  on  our  morning  v.alk.  Tlu^  hour,  I  am 
aware,  h  an  unusual  one  ;  but  later  in  the  day 
my  nieee  m;iy  bu  resting  on  the  sofa,  and  may 
not  be  able  to  sn-e  visitors." 

Having  maile  this  projwsal  purely  for  the 
purpose  of  enabling  Mr.  Noel  Vanstoiie  to 
escape  lo  North  ShingKs  at  an  hour  in  the 
niorning  wiien  his  Ii<iH;^.kefper  would  be  prob- 
ably in  bed.  Captain  Wragge  left  him  to  take 
tlie  hint,  it'  be  could,  as  indirectly  as  it  had 
been  given.  He  proved  sharp  enough  (tho 
case  being  one  in  which  his  own  interests 
w<'re  concerned)  to  close  with  the  ]>t-oposal 
on  the  spot.  Politely  declaring  that  be  was 
always  rn  early  man  when  the  niorning  pre- 
sented any  special  attraction  to  him,  he  ac- 
cepted I  lie  appointment  for  seven  o'clock,  and 
rose  soon  afivrw.-.rd  lo  take  hi»  leave. 


162 


NO  NAME. 


"  One  word  at  partino;,"  said  Captain 
Wraf^"-e.  '•  This  conversation  is  entirely  be- 
tween* ourselves.  Mrs.  Lecount  must  know 
nothing  of  the  impression  she  has  produced 
on  my" niece.  1  have  only  mentioned  it  to 
vou  to  account  for  my  apparently  churlish 
Conduct,  and  to  satisfy  your  own  mind.  In 
confidence,  Mr.  Vanstone  —  strictly  in  confi- 
dence.    Good-morning !" 

With  these  parting  words  the  captain  bowed 
his  visitor  out.  Unless  some  unexpected  dis- 
aster occurred,  he  now  saw  his  way  safely  to 
the  end  of  the  enterprise.  He  had  gained 
two  important  steps  in  advance  that  morning. 
He  had  sown  the  seeds  of  variance  between 
the  housekeeper  and  her  master,  and  he  had 
given  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  a'  common  interest 
with  Magdalen  and  himself  in  keeping  a  se- 
cret from  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  We  have  caught 
our  man,"  thought  Captain  Wragge,  cheer- 
fully rubbing  his  hands— "we  have  caught  our 

man  at  last!"  ,,     ^t     ,  -,- 

On  leaving  North  Shmgles  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone walked  straight  home,  fuiiy  restored  to 
his  place  in  his  own  estimation,  and  sternly  I 
determined  to  carry  matt(^rs  with  a  high  hand  j 
if  he  found  himself  in  collision  with  Mrs.  Le-  I 

count. 

The  housekeeper  received  her  master  at  the 
door  with  her  mildest  manner  and  her  gentlest 
smile.  She  addressed  him  with  downcast 
eyes;  she  opposed  to  his  contemplated  asser- 
tion of  independence  a  barrier  of  impenetra- 
ble respect.  o-    „  i     ^.  .-i- 

"May  I  venture  to  ask.  Sir,    she  began,     it 

vour  visit  to  North  Shingles  has  led  you  to 
form  the  same  conclusion  as  mine  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Miss  Bvirraves  illness  V" 

"  Certainlv  not,  Lecount.  I  consider  your 
conclusion  to  have  been  both  hasty  and  preju- 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  Sir.  I  felt  hurt  by 
Mr  Bv<Trave's  rude  reception  of  me;  but  I 
was  not*^  aware  tiiat  my  judgment  was  prej- 
udiced by  it.  Perhaps  he  received  you,  Sir, 
•with  a  warmer  welcome  ?" 

-  He  received  me  like  a  gentleman— that  is 
all  I  think  it  necessary  to  say,  Lecount— he 
received  me  like  a  gentleman.'" 

This  answer  satisfied  Mrs.  Lecount  on  the 
one  doubtful  point  that  had  perplexed  her. 
Whatever  Mr.  Bvgrave's  sudden  coolness  to- 
ward herself  might  mean,  his  polite  rec|ction 
of  her  master  implied  that  the  risk  W  de- 
tection had  not  daunted  him,  and  that  the 
conspiracy  was  still  in  full  progress.  Ihe 
housekeeper's  eves  brightened.  She  had  ex- 
pressly calculated  on  this  result.  Alter  a 
mome'nt's  thinking,  she  addressed  her  master 
with  another  question : 

"You  will    probably   visit    Mr.    Bygrave, 

again.  Sir  ?"  . .  r    i         » 

"  Of  course  I  shall  visit  him— it  1  please. 
"  And  perhaps  see  Miss  Bygrave,  if  she  gets 

better?"  ,  , 

'•  Whv  not  ?     I  should  be  glad  to  know  why 


not  ?     Is  it  necessary  to  ask  your  leave  first, 
Lecount  ?" 

"Bv  no  means.  Sir.  As  you  have  often 
said  (and  as  I  have  often  agreed  with  you), 
vou  are  master.  It  may  surprise  you  to  hear 
it,  Mr.  Noel,  but  I  have  a  private  reason  for 
wishing  that  you  should  see  Miss  Bygrave 
again." 

Mr.  Noel  started  a  little,  and  looked  at  his 
housekeeper  with  some  curiosity. 

"  I  have  a  strange  fancy  of  my  own,  Sir, 
about  that  young  lady,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Le- 
count. "If  you  will  excuse  my  fancy,  and 
indulge  it,  you  will  do  me  a  favor  for  which  I 
shall  be  very  grateful." 

"  A  fancy  ?"  repeated  her  master,  in  grow- 
ing surprise.     "  What  fancy?" 

"  Only  this,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 

She  took  from  one  of  the  neat  little  pockets 

of  her  apron  a  morsel  of  note  paper,  carefully 

folded  into  the  smallest  possible  compass,  and 

respectfully  placed  it  in  Noel  Vanstone's  hand. 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  oblige  an  old  and 

faithful  servant,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  in  a  very 

quiet  and  very  impressive  manner,  "  you  will 

kindlv  put  that  morsel  of  paper    into  your 

waistcoat-pocket ;    you  will  open  and  read  it 

for  the  first  time  tvhen  ynu  are  next  in  Mm 

Byqrace's  company:  and  you  will  say  nothing 

I  of  what  has  now  passed  between  us  to  any 

j  living   creature,  from   this    time  to  that.    ^  I 

1  promise  to  explain   my  strange  request.   Sir, 

I  when  you  have  done  what  I  ask,  and  when 

1  your  next  interview  with  Miss  Bygrave  has 

come  to  an  end." 

She  courtesied  with  her  best  grace,  and 
quietlv  left  the  room.  ^  ,  •,  j 

Mr.' Noel  Vanstone  looked  Irom  the  folded 
paper  to  the  door,  and  from  the  door  back  to 
the  folded  paper,  in  unutterable  a.-<tonishment. 
A  mystery  in  his  own  house,  under  his  own 


nose  !     What  did  it  mean 

It  meant  that  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  waste 
her  time  that  morning.  While  the  captail 
was  casting  the  net  over  his  visitor  at  Nortl 
Shin'^les,  the  housekeeper  was  steadily  mining 
the  ground  under  his  feet.  The  folded  paper 
contained  nothing  less  than  a  carefully-writ- 
ten extract  from  the  personal  description  of 
Magdalen  in  Miss  Garth's  letter.  With  a 
darfng  ingenuity  which  even  Captain  Wragge 
might''  have  envied,  Mrs.  Lecount  had  found 
her  instrument  for  exposing  the  conspiracy 
in  the  unsuspecting  person  of  the  victim  him- 
self! 


CHAPTER  VIL 

Late  that  evening,  when  Magdalen  and 
Mrs.  Wraf  ge  came  back  from  their  walk  in 
the  dark.'^tlie  captain  stopped  Magdalen  on 
her  way  up  stairs,  to  inform  her  of  the  pro- 
ceedincrs  of  the  day.  He  added  the  expres- 
sion ot^his  opinion,  that  the  time  had  come  for 


NO  NAME. 


brinrjing  Mi*.  Noel  Vanstone,  with  the  k'ast 
possible  delay,  to  the  point  of  making  a  pro- 
posal. She  nierely  answered  that  she  under- 
stood him,  and  that  she  Avonld  do  what  was 
required  of  her.  Captain  Wragge  recjuested 
her,  in  tliat  case,  to  oblige  him  by  joining  a 
walking -excursion  in  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's 
comi)any,  at  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning. 
"I  will  be  ready,"  she  replied.  "Is  there 
anything  more  ?"  There  was  nothing  more. 
Magdalen  bade  him  good-niglit,  and  returned 
to  her  o\vrv>!  oom. 

She  had'  .'iiown  the  ?ame  disinclination  to 
remain  any  longer  than  was  necessjiry  in  the 
captain's  company  throughout  the  tliree  days 
of  her  seclusion  in  the  house. 

During  all  that  time,  instead  of  appearing 
to  weary  of  I^Ir.s.  Wraggc's  society,  slie  had 
patiently,  almost  eagerly,  associated  herself 
with  her  companion's  one  absorbing  pursuit. 
She,  who  had  often  chafed  and  fretted  in  past 
days,  under  the  monotony  of  her  life  in  the 
freedom  of  Combe-Riiven,  now  accejited,  with- 
out a  murmur,  the  monotony  of  her  life  at 
Mrs.  Wragge's  work-table.  Siie,  who  had 
hated  the  siglit  of  a  needle  and  thread  in  old 
times  —  who  had  never  yet  worn  an  article  of 
dress  of  her  own  making — now  toiled  as  anx- 
iously over  llie  making  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  gown, 
and  bore  as  patiently  Avith  Mrs.  Wragge's 
blunders,  as  if  the  sole  object  of  her  existence 
had  been  the  successful  completion  of  that 
one  dress.  Anything  was  welcome  to  her  — 
the  trivial  difliculties  of  fitting  a  gown  ;  the 
small,  ceaseless  chatter  of  the  poor  half-witted 
creature,  who  was  so  pi-oud  of  her  assistance, 
and  so  happy  in  her  company — anything  was 
welcome  that  shut  her  out  from  the  coming 
future,  from  the  destiny  to  whii-h  she  stood 
self-condemned.  That  sorely-wounded  nat- 
ure was  soothed  by  such  a  trifle  now  as  the 
grasp  of  her  companion's  rough  and  friendly 
hand — that  desolate  heart  was  cheered,  when 
night  parted  them,  by  Mrs.  Wragge's  kiss. 

The  caj)tain's  isolated  position  in  .the  house 
produced  no  depressing  elfect  on  the  captain's 
easy  and  equal  spirits.  Instead  of  resenting 
Magdalen's  systematic  avoidance  of  his  soci- 
ety, he  looked  to  results,  and  highly  approved 
of  it.  Tlie  more  she  neglected  him  for  his 
wife,  the  more  directly  useful  she  became  in 
the  character  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  self-appointed 
guardian.  He  had  more  than  once  seriously 
contemplated  revoking  the  concession  which 
had  been  extorted  from  him,  and  removing 
bis  wife  at  his  own  sole  responsibility  out  of 
barm's  way;  and  he  had  only  abandoned  the 
idea  on  discovering  that  Magdalen's  resolution 
to  keep  Mrs.  W^ragge  in  lier  own  company  was 
really  serious.  Wliile  the  two  were  together, 
bis  main  anxiety  was  set  at  rest.  They  kept 
their  door  locked,  by  his  own  desire,  while  he 
was  out  of  the  house,  and,  whatever  Mrs. 
Wraggc  might  do,  Magdalen  was  to  be  trust- 
ed not  to  open  it  until  h*;  came  back.  That 
iMgbt  Captain  Wragge  enjoyed  his  cigar  with 
20 


a  mind  at  ease,  and  sipped  his  brandy  and 
water  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  pitfall  which 
Mrs.  Locount  had  prepared  for  him  in  the 
morning. 

Punctually  at  seven  o'clock  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  made  his  appearance.  The  moment  he 
entered  the  room  Captain  Wragge  detected 
a  change  in  his  visitor's  look  and  manner. 
"Something  wrong!"  thought  the  captain. 
"  We  have  not  done  with  Mrs.  Lecount  yet." 

"  IIoAv  is  Miss  Bygrave  this  morning?"  asked 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  "  Well  enougli,  1  hope, 
for  our  early  walk  1"  His  half-closed  eyes, 
weak  and  watery  with  the  morning  light  and 
the  morning  air,  looked  about  the  room  fur- 
tively, and  iie  shifted  his  place  in  a  restless- 
manner  from  one  chair  to  another  as  he  mailo 
those  polite  inquiries. 

"  My  niece  is  better — she  is  dressing  for  the 
walk,*'  replied  the  captain,  steadily  observing 
hi.i  restless  little  friend  while  he  spoke.  "  Mr. 
Vanstone  !"  he  added,  on  a  sudden,  "  I  am  a 
plain  Englishman  —  excuse  my  blunt  way  of 
speaking  my  mind.  You  don't  meet  me  this 
morning  as  cordially  as  you  met  me  yesterday. 
There  is  something  unsettled  in  your  face.  I 
distrust  that  housekeeper  of  yours,  Sir !  Has 
she  been  presuming  on  your  forbearance.  Has 
she  been  trying  to  poison  your  mind  against 
me  or  my  niece  '?" 

If  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  had  obeyed  Mrs. 
Leconnt's  injunction,  and  had  kept  her  little 
morsel  of  note-pa])er  folded  in  his  pocket  until 
the  time  came  to  use  it.  Captain  Wragge's  de- 
signedly blunt  appeal  might  not  have  found 
him  unprepared  with  an  answer.  But  curiosity 
had  got  the  better  of  him — he  had  opened  the 
note  at  night,  and  again  in  the  morning  —  it 
had  seriously  perplexed  and  start4ed  him — and 
it  had  left  his  mind  far  too  disturbed  to  allow 
him  the  ])OSsession  of  his  ordinary  resources. 
He  hesitated ;  and  his  answer,  when  he  suc- 
ceeded in  making  it,  began  with  a  prevarica- 
tion. 

Captain  Wragge  stopped  him  before  he  had 
got  beyond  his  first  sentence. 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir,"  said  the  captain,  in  his 
loftiest  manner.  "  If  you  have  secrets  to  keep, 
you  have  only  to  say  so,  and  I  have  done.  I 
intrude  on  no  man's  secrets.  At  the  same 
time,  Mr.  Vanstone,  you  must  allow  me  to  re- 
call to  your  memory  that  I  met  you  yesterday 
Wiithout  any  reserves  on  my  side.  I  admlttedf 
you  to  my  frankest  and  fullest  eojifidence,. 
Sir — and,  highly  as  I  jirize  the  adyantages  qf 
your  society,  I  can't  consent  to  cultivate  your 
friendship  on  any  other  thai)  equal  terms.'' • 
He  threw  open  his  respectable  frock-coat,  ancl 
surveyed  his  visitor  with  a  manly  and  virtuous 
severiliy. 

"  I  mean  no  offense !"  cried  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone, piteou.sly.  "  Why  do  you  interrupt  me, 
Mr.  Bygrave  V  Why  don't  you  let  me  explain  ? 
I  mean  no  offense." 

"  No  offense  is  taken,  Sir,"  said  the  captain. 
"  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  the  exercise  of 


IH 


NO  NAME. 


your  own  discretion.  I  am  not  oflTended  —  I 
only  (;laim  for  myself  the  same  privilege  which 
I  accord  to  you.'  He  rose  with  jrreat  dig- 
nit)',  and  rang  the  bell.  "  Tell  Miss  Bygrave," 
he  said  to  the  servant,  "  that  our  walk  this 
morning  is  put  off  until  another  opportunity, 
and  that  I  won't  trouble  her  to  come  down 
stairs." 

This  strong  proceeding  had  the  desired  ef- 
fect. Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  vehemently  pleaded 
for  a  moment's  private  conversation  before  the 
message  was  delivered.  Captain  Wragge's 
severity  partially  relaxed.  He  sent  the  ser- 
vant down  stairs ;  and,  resuming  his  chair, 
waited  confidently  for  results.  In  calculating 
the  facilities  for  practicing  on  his  visitor's 
weakness  he  had  one  great  superiority  over 
Mrs.  Lecount.  His  judgment  was  not  warped 
by  latent  female  jealousies,  and  he  avoided  the 
error  into  which  the  housekeeper  had  fallen, 
self-deluded — the  error  of  underrating  the  im- 
pression on  Noel  Vanstone  that  Magdalen  had 
produced.  One  of  the  forces  in  this  world 
which  no  middle  -  aged  woman  is  capable  of 
estimating  at  its  full  value,  when  it  acts  against 
her,  is  the  force  of  beauty  in  a  woman  younger 
than  herself 

"  You  are  so  hasty,  Mr.  Bygrave,  you  won't 

five  me  time — you  won't  wait  and  hear  what 
have  to  say !"  cried  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone, 
piteously,  when  the  servant  had  closed  the 
parlor-(loor. 

"My  family  failing.  Sir  —  the  blood  of  the 
Bygraves.  Accept  my  excuses.  We  are  alone, 
as  you  wished — pray  proceed." 

Placed  between  the  alternatives  of  losing 
Magdalen's  society  or  betraying  Mrs.  Lecount 
— unenlightened  by  any  suspicion  of  the  house- 
keeper's ultimate  object;  cowed  by  the  im- 
movable scrutiny  of  Captain  Wragge's  inquir- 
ing eye — Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  was  not  long  in 
making  his  choice.  He  confusedly  described 
his  singular  interview  of  the  previous  evening 
with  Mrs.  Lecount,  and  taking  the  folded 
paper  from  his  pocket  placed  it  in  the  cap- 
tain's hand. 

A  suspicion  of  the  truth  dawned  on  Cap- 
tain Wragge's  mind  the  moment  he  saw  the 
mysterious  note.  He  withdrew  to  the  window 
before  he  opened  it.  The  first  lines  tiiat  at- 
tracted his  attention  were  these  :  "  Oblige  me, 
Mr.  Noel,  by  comparing  the  young  lady  who 
is  now  in  your  company  with  the  personal 
description  which  follows  these  lines,  and 
which  has  been  communicated  to  me  by  a 
friend.  You  shall  know  the  name  of  the  per- 
son described  —  which  I  have  left  a  blank 
—  as  soon  as  the  evidence  of  your  own  eyes 
has  forced  you  to  believe  what  you  would  re- 
fuse to  credit  on  the  unsupported  testimony 
of  Virginie  Lecount." 

This  was  enough  for  the  captain.  Before 
he  had  read  a  word  of  the  description  itself 
he  knew  what  Mrs.  Lecount  had  done,  and 
felt,  with  a  profound  sense  of  humiliation,  that 
his  female  enemy  had  taken  him  by  surprise. 


There  was  no  time  to  think ;  the  whole 
conspiracy  was  threatened  with  irrevocabi© 
overthrow.  The  one  resource  in  Captain 
Wragge's  present  situation  was  to  act  instant- 
ly on  the  first  im[)ulse  of  his  own  audacity. 
Line  by  line  he  read  on,  and  still  the  ready 
inventiveness  which  had  never  deserted  him 
yet  failed  to  answer  the  call  made  on  it  now. 
Ho  came  to  the  closing  sentence  —  to  the 
last  words  which  mentioned  the  two  little 
moles  on  Magdalen's  neck.  At  that  crown- 
ing point  of  the  description  an  7dea  crossed 
his  mind — his  parti-colored  cyeV  twinkled; 
his  curly  lips  twisted  up  at  the  corners  — 
AVragge  was  himself  again. 

He  wheeled  round  suddenly  from  the  win- 
dow, and  looked  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  straight 
in  the  face  with  a  grimly-quiet  suggestiveness 
of  something  serious  to  come. 

"  Pray,  Sir,  do  you  happen  to  know  'any- 
thing of  Mrs.  Lecount's  family  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  A  respectable  family,"  said  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  —  "that  's  all  I  know.  Why  do 
you  ask  ?" 

"  I  am  not  usually  a  betting  man,"  pursued 
Captain  Wragge.  "But  on  this  occasion  I 
will  lay  you  any  wager  you  like  there  is  mad- 
ness in  your  housekeeper's  family." 

"Madness!"  repeated  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone, 
amazedly. 

"  Madness !"  reiterated  the  captain,  sternlj 
tapping  the  note  with  his  forefinger.  "  I  sea 
the  cunning  of  insanity,  the  suspicion  of  in- 
sanity, the  feline  trea:;hery  of  Insanity  in 
every  line  of  this  deplorable  document.  There 
is  a  far  more  alarming  reason.  Sir,  than  I  had 
supposed  for  Mrs.  Lecount's  behavior  to  my 
niece.  It  is.  clear  to  me  that  Miss  Bygrave 
resembles  some  other  lady  who  has  seriously 
offended  your  housekeeper  —  who  has  been 
formerly  connected,  perhaps,  with  an  out- 
break of  insanity  in  your  Housekeeper  —  and 
who  is  now  evidently  confused  with  my  niece 
in  your  housekeepers  wandering  mind.  That 
is  my  conviction,  Mr.  Vanstone.  I  may  be 
right,  or  I  may  be  wrong.  All  I  say  Is  this — 
neither  you  nor  any  man  can  assign  a  sane 
motive  for  the  production  of  that  incompre- 
hensible document,  and  lor  the  use  which  you 
are  requested  to  make  of  it." 

"I  don't  think  Lecount  's  mad,"  said  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone,  with  a  very  blank  look,  and 
a  very  discomposed  manner.  "  It  couldn't 
have  escaped  me  —  with  my  habits  of  obser- 
vation—  it  couldn't  possibly  have  escaped  me 
if  Lecount  had  been  mad." 

"  Very  good,  my  dear  Sir.  In  my  opinion 
she  is  the  subject  of  an  insane  delusion.  In 
your  opinion  she  Is  in  possession  of  her  senses, 
and  has  some  mysterious  motive  which  neither 
you  nor  I  can  fathom.  Either  way,  there 
can  be  no  harm  In  putting  Mrs.  Lecount's 
description  to  the  test,  not  only  as  a  matter 
of  curiosity,  but  for  our  own  private  satisfac- 
tion on  both  sides.  It  is  of  course  Imposslblo 
to  tell  my  niece  that  she  is  to  be  made  the 


NO  NAME. 


155 


subject  of  such  a  proposterous  experiment  as 
that  note  of  yours  suggests.  But  30U  can 
use  your  own  eyes,  Mr.  Vanslone ;  you  can 
keep  your  own  counsel;  and  —  ma<l  or  not  — 
you  can  at  least  tell  your  housekeeper,  on  the 
testimony  of  your  own  senses,  that  she  is 
wrong.  L('t  me  look  at  the  description  again. 
The  greater  part  of  it  is  not  worth  two  straws 
for  anv  ])nrpose  of  identihcation  ;  hundreds  of 
young  ladies  have  tall  figures,  fair  complex- 
ions, light  brown  hair,  and  ligiit  gray  eyes. 
You  will  say,  on  th(!  other  hand,  hundreds  of 
young  ladies  have  not  got  two  little  moles 
close  together  on  ilic  left  side  of  the  neck. 
Quite  true.  Tlie  moles  supply  us  with  what 
we  scientific  men  call  a  Crucial  Test.  Wlien 
my  niece  comes  down  stairs,  Sir,  you  have 
my  full  permission  to  take  the  liberty  of  look- 
ing at  her  neck.' 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  expressed  his  high  ap- 
proval of  the  Crucial  Test  by  smirking  and 
simpering  for  th'.^  first  time  that  morning. 

*'  Of  looking  at  her  neck,"  repeated  the 
captain,  returning  the  note  to  his  visitor,  and 
then  making  for  the  door.  "  I  will  go  up 
stairs  my.self,  Mr.  Vanstone,"  he  continued, 
"and  inspect  Miss  Bygrave's  walking-dre.<s. 
If  she  has  innocently  placed  any  obstacles  in 
your  way  —  if  her  hair  is  a  little  too  low,  or 
her  frill  is  a  little  too  high  —  I  will  exert  my 
atitliority,  on  t!ie  first  harmless  pretext  I  can 
think  of,  to  have  those  obstacles  removed. 
All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  choose  your  oppor- 
tunity discreetly,  and  that  ^-ou  will  not  allow 
my  niece  to  sui)pos;'  that  her  ne(  k  is  the 
object  of  a  gentleman's  inspection." 

The  moment  he  was  out  of  the  parlor  Cap- 
tain Wragge  ascended  the  .stairs  at  the  top  of 
his  spe»<l  and  knocked  at  Magdalen's  door. 
She  opened  it  to  him  in  her  walking-dress  — 
obedient  to  the  signal  agree<l  on  between 
them  which  summoned  her  down  stairs. 

"  Wliat  have  you  done  with  your  p\ints 
and  powders?"  asked  the  captain,  without 
wa-<ting  a  word  in  preliminary  explanations. 
"They  were  not  in  tlltj  Imx  of  costumes  which 
I  sold  for  you  at  Birmingham.  AVhere  are 
they  V" 

"  I  have  got  them  here,"  replied  Mag<lalen. 
"  What  can  you  possibly  mean  by  wanting 
them  now  '.'" 

"  Bring  tliem  instantly  into  my  dressing- 
room —  th<',  whole  collection,  brushes,  pallet, 
and  everything.  Don't  wa.ste  time  in  asking 
questions;  I  'II  tell  you  what  has  happened  as 
we  go  on.  Every  moment  is  precious  to  us. 
Follow  me  instantly  !" 

His  face  plainly  showed  that  there  was  a 
Berious  reason  for  his  strange  proposal.  Maj- 
I  dalen  secured  her  collection  of  cosmetics,  and 
followed  him  into  the  dressing-room.  He 
]o<'ked  the  door,  placed  her  on  a  chair  close 
to  the  light,  and  then  told  her  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

"  We  are  on  the  brink  of  detoction,"  pro- 
ceeded the  captain,  carefully  mixing  his  colors 


with  liquid  glue,  and  with  a  strong  "  drier" 
added  from  a  bottle  in  his  own  possession. 
"  There  is  only  one  chance  for  us  (lift  up  your 
hair  from  tlie  left  side  of  your  neck)  — I  have 
told  ^Ir.  Noel  Vanstone  to  take  a  private  op- 
portunity ot"  looking  at  you,  and  I  'm  going  t» 
give  the  lie  direct  to  that  she-devil  Lecount 
by  painting  out  your  moles." 

"  They  can't  be  painted  out,"  said  Magda- 
len.    "  No  color  will  stop  on  them." 

•'  ^f|/  color  will," remarked  Captain  Wragge, 
'*  I  have  tried  a  variety  of  professions  in  my 
time,  the  profession  of  painting  among  the 
rest.  Did  you  ever  he.ar  of  such  a  thing  as  a 
Black  Kye  ?  I  lived  .some  months  once  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Drury  Lane  entirely  on  B4ick 
Eyes.  i\Iy  flesh-color  stood  on  bruises  of  all 
sorts,  shades,  and  sizes  —  and  it  will  stand,  I 
promise  you,  on  your  moles." 

AVith  this  assurance  the  captain  dipped  hi9 
brush  into  a  little  lump  of  opacpie  color,  which 
lie  had  mixed  in  a  saucer,  and  which  ho  had 
graduated,  as  nearly  as  the  materials  would 
permit,  to  the  color  of  Magdalen's  skin.  After 
first  passing  a  cambric  handkerchief,  with  soma 
white  powder  on  it,  over  the  part  of  her  neck 
on  which  he  designed  to  operate,  he  placed 
two  layers  of  color  on  the  moles  with  the  tip 
of  the  brush.  The  process  was  performed  in 
a  few  moments,  and  the  moles,  as  if  by  magic, 
disappeared  from  view.  Nothing  but  the 
closest  in.spection  could  have  discovered  the 
artifice  by  which  they  had  been  concealed :  at 
the  distance  of  two  or  three  feet  only  it  was 
perfectly  invisible. 

"  Wait  here  five  minutes,"  said  Captain 
Wragge,  "to  let  the  paint  dry,  and  then  join 
us  in  the  parlor.  Mrs.  Lecount  her.self  would 
be  puzzled  if  she  looked  at  you  now." 

'•  Stop  !"  saiil  ^Lagdalen.  "  There  is  one 
thing  you  have  not  told  me  yet.  How  did 
Mrs.  Lecount  get  the  description  which  you 
read  <lown  stairs?  Whatever  else  she  ha« 
seen  of  mc,  she  has  not  seen  the  mark  on  mj 
neck  ;  it  is  too  far  back  and  too  high  up;  mj 
hair  hiiles  it.' 

'  Who  knows  of  the  mark?"  asked  Captain 
Wrairge. 

She  turned  deadly  pale,  under  the  anguish 
of  a  sudden  recollectiim  of  Frank. 

"  .My  sister  knows  it,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"  Mrs.  Lecount  miiy  have  written  to  your 
sister,"  suggested  the  captain. 

"  Do  vou  think  my  sister  would  tell  a  stran- 
ger what  no  stianger  has  a  right  to  know? 
Never  I  never !" 

"  Is  there  nobody  else  who  could  tell  Mrs. 
Lecount?  The  mark  was  mentioned  in  the 
handbills  at  York.     AVho  put  it  there?" 

"  Not  Norali !  Perhaps  Mr.  Pendril.  Per- 
haps iMiss  (Jarth." 

"  Then  Mrs.  Lecount  has  written  to  Mr. 
Petidril  or  Miss  Garth  —  more  likely  to  Miss 
( Jart  h.  The  governess  would  be  easier  to  deal 
with  than  the  lawyer." 

"  What  can  she  have  said  to  Miss  Garth?" 


156 


NO  NAME. 


Captain  Wragfje  consldpred  a  little. 

"  I  can't  say  what  Mrs.  Lecount  may  have 
written,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  can  tell  you  what  I 
should  have  written  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  place. 
I  should  have  frightened  Miss  Garth  by  false 
reports  about  you,  to  begin  with;  and  then  I 
should  have  asked  for  personal  particulars,  to 
help  a  benevolent  stranger  in  restoring  you  to 
yovir  friends." 

The  angry  glitter  flashed  up  instantly  in 
Magdalen's  eyes. 

"  What  you  would  have  done  is  what  Mrs. 
Xiccount  has  done,"  she  said,  indignantly. 
•"Neither  lawyer  nor  governess  shall  dispute 
■my  right  to  my  own  will  and  my  own  way.  If 
Mis% Garth  thinks  she  can  control  my  actions 
by  corresponding  with  Mrs.  Lecount,  I  will 
show  Miss  Garth  she  is  mistaken  !  It  is  high 
time,  Captain  AVragge,  to  have  done  with  these 
wretched  risks  of  discovery.  We  will  take 
the  short  way  to  the  end  we  have  in  view 
sooner  than  Mrs.  Lecount  or  Miss  Garth  think 
for.  How  long  can  you  give  me  to  wring  an 
offer  of  marriage  out  of  tliat  creature  down 
stairs  V" 

"  I  dare  not  give  you  long,"  replied  Captain 
Wragge.  "  Now  your  friends  know  where 
you  are,  they  may  come  down  on  us  at  a 
day's  notice.  Could  you  manage  it  in  a 
week  ?" 

"  I  '11  manage  it  in  half  the  time,"'  she  said, 
with  a  hard,  defiant  laugh.  "  Leave  us  to- 
gether this  morning  as  you  left  us  at  Dun- 
wich  —  and  take  Mrs.  Wragge  with  you  as  an 
excuse  for  parting  company.  Is  the  paint  dry 
yet?  Go  down  stairs  and  tel!  him  I  am  com- 
ing directly." 

So  for  the  second  time  Miss  Garth's  well- 
meant  efforts  defeated  their  own  end.  So  the 
fatal  force  of  circumstance  turned  the  hand 
that  would  fain  have  held  Magdalen  back  into 
the  hand  that  drove  her  on. 

The  captain  returned  to  his  visitor  in  the 
parlor,  after  first  stopping  on  the  way  to  issue 
his  orders  for  the  walking -excursion  to  Mrs. 
Wragge. 

"I  am  shocked  to  have  kept  you  waiting," 
he  said,  sitting  down  again  confidentially  by 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  side.  "  My  only  excuse 
is,  that  my  niece  had  accidentally  dressed  her 
^air  so  as  to  defeat  our  object.  I  have  been 
'parsuading  her  to  alter  it  —  and  young  lacFies 
are  apt  to  be  a  little  obstinate  on  questions 
relatiag  to  their  toilet.  Give  her  a  chair  on 
•  that  side  of  you  when  she  comes  in,  and  take 
,your  look  at  h.^r  neck  comfortably  before  we 
,  start  for  ouy  walk." 

Magdalen  entered  the  room  as  he  said  those 
words— and,  after  the  first  greetings  were  ex- 
changed, took  tke  chair  presented  to  her  with 
the  most  unsuspicious  readiness.  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  applied  ithe  Crucial  Test  on  the 
spot,  with  the  highest  appreciation  of  the  fair 
material  which  was  the  subject  of  experiment. 
Not  the  vestige  of  a  mole  was  visible  on  any 
part  pf   the .  smooth   white   surface  of   Miss 


Bygrave's  nock.  It  mutely  answered  the 
blinking  inquiry  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  half- 
closed  eyes  by  the  flattest  practi  'al  contradic- 
tion of  Mrs.  Lecount.  That  one  central  inci- 
dent in  the  events  of  the  morning  was,  of  all 
the  incidents  that  had  hitherto  occurred,  the 
most  important  in  its  results.  Tkat  one  dif- 
covery  shook  the  housekeeper's  hold  on  her 
master  as  nothing  had  shaken  it  yet. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Wragge  made  her 
appearance,  and  excited  as  much  surprise  in 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  mind  as  he  was  capable 
of  feeling  while  absorbed  in  the  enjoyment  of 
Magdalen's  society.  The  Wrilking-party  left 
the  house  at  once,  directing  their  steps  north- 
ward, so  as  not  to  pass  the  windows  of  Sea- 
View  Cottage.  To  Mrs.  Wragge'.?  unutter- 
able astonishment,  her  husband,  lor  the  first 
time  in  the  course  of  their  married  life,  po- 
litely offered  her  his  arm  and  led  her  on 
ill  advance  of  the  young  peojile,  as  if  the 
privilege  of  walking  alone  witji  her  presented 
some  special  attraction  to  him  !  "  Step  out !" 
whispered  the  captain,  fiercely.  "Leave  your 
niece  and  Mr.  Vanstone  alone !  If  I  catch 
you  looking  back  at  them  I  '11  put  the  Ori- 
ental Cashmere  Robe  on  the  top  of  the 
kitchen  fire !  Turn  your  toes  out  and  keep 
step  —  confound  you,  keep  step !"  Mrs. 
Wragge  kept  step  to  the  best  of  her  limited 
ability.  Her  sturdy  knees  trembled  under 
her.  She  firmly  believed  the  captain  was  in- 
toxicated. 

The  walk  lasted  for  rather  more  than  an 
hour.  Before  nine  o'clock  they  were  all  back 
again  at  North  Shingles.  The  ladies  went  at 
once  into  the  house.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
remained  with  Captain  Wragge  in  the  gar- 
den. 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "what  do  you 
think  now  of  I\Irs.  Lecount  V" 

"  Damn  Lecount !"  replied  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone, in  great  agitation.  "  I  'm  half  inclined 
to  agree  with  you.  I  'm  half  inclined  to  think 
my  infernal  housekeeper  is  mad." 

He  spoke  fretfully  and  unwillingly,  as  if  the 
merest  allusion  to  Mrs.  Lecount  was  distaste- 
ful to  him.  His  color  came  and  went ;  his 
manner  was  absent  and  undecided  ;  he  fidg- 
eted restlessly  about  the  garden -walk.  It 
would  have  been  plain  to  a  far  less  acute 
observation  than  Captain  Wragge's  that  Mag- 
dalen had  met  his  advances  by  an  unexpected 
grace  and  readiness  of  encouragement  which 
had  entirely  overthrown  his  self-control. 

"  I  never  enjoyed  a  walk  so  much  in  my 
life !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden  outburst 
of  enthusiasm.  "I  hope  Miss  Bygrave  feels 
all  the  better  for  it.  Do  you  go  out  at  the 
same  time  to-morrow  morning?  May  I  join 
you  again  ?" 

"  By  all  means,  Mr.  Vanstone,"  said  the 
captain,  cordially.  "  Excuse  me  for  returning 
to  the  subject;  but  what  do  you  propose  say- 
ing to  Mrs.  Lecount  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     Lecount  is  a  perfect  nui- 


NO  NAME. 


157 


sance  !     What  would  you  do,  Mr.  Bygrave,  if 
you  were  in  my  place  V" 

"  Allow  me  to  a^k  a  question,  my  dear  Sir, 
before  I  tell  you.  What  is  your  breakfast 
hour  '?" 

"  Half-past  nine." 

"  Is  Mrs.  Lecount  an  early  riser  ?" 

"No.     Lecnunt  is  lazy  in  the  mornin<r.     I 
hate  lazy  women  !     If  you  were  in  my  place, ' 
what  should  you  say  to  her  ?" 

''  I  should  say  nothintr,"  re})Iieil  Captain 
Wracffje.  "  I  should  return  at  once  by  the 
back  way ;  I  should  let  Mrs.  Lecount  see  me 
in  the  front  tr-'^i'den,  a^  if  I  was  taking  a  turn 
beibre  breakfast ;  and  I  should  leave  her  to 
supposo  that  I  was  only  just  out  of  my  room. 
If  she  asks  you  whether  you  mean  lo  come 
here  to-day,  say  no.  Secure  a  quiet  life, 
until  circiunstances  force  you  to  give  her  an 
answer.  Then  tell  the  plain  truth  —  say  that 
Mr.  B)'grave's  niece  and  Mrs.  Lecount's  de- 
scription are  at  variance  with  each  other  in 
the  most  important  particular,  and  b(^g  that 
the  subject  may  not  be  mentioned  again. 
There  is  my  advice.  What  do  vou  think 
of  it  ?" 

If  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  could  have  looked  into 
his  counsellor's  mind  he  might  have  thought 
the  captain's  advice  excellently  adapted  to 
serve  the  captain's  interests.  As  long  as  Mrs. 
Lecount  could  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  her 
master's  visits  to  North  Siiingles,  so  long  she 
would  wait  until  the  opportunity  came  for 
trying  the  experiment ;  and  so  long  she  might 
be  trusted  not  to  endanger  the  conspirai.-y  by 
any  further  proceedings.  Ni-ces^arily  inca- 
jiable  of  viewing  Captain  Wragge's  advice 
uniler  this  aspect,  Mr.  Noel  A^anstone  simply 
looked  at  it  as  offering  him  a  temporary 
niCMUs  of  escape  from  an  explanation  with 
his  housekeeper.  He  eagerly  declared  that 
the  course  of  action  suggested  to  him  should 
be  followed  to  the  letter,  and  returned  to  Sea- 
View  without  further  delay. 

On  this  occasion  Captain  Wragge's  antici- 
pations were  in  no  respect  falsified  by  Mrs. 
Lecount's  conduct.  She  had  no  suspicion  of 
her  master's  visit  to  North  Shingles  —  she  had 
made  uji  her  mind,  if  necessary,  to  wait  pa- 
tiently for  his  interview  with  INIiss  Bygrave 
until  tlie  end  of  the  week,  and  she  did  not 
embarrass  him  by  any  unexpected  ipiestions 
•when  he  announced  his  inti-ntion  of  holding 
no  personal  communication  with  t!u'  Bygraves 
on  that  day.  All  she  said  was,  "  Don't  you 
feel  well  cnongli,  I\Ir.  Noel  ?  or  don't  you  feel 
inclined  y  lie  answered,  shortly,  "1  don't 
feel  well  enough ;"  and  there  the  conversation 
ended. 

The  next  day  the  proceedings  of  the  pre- 
vious morning  were  exactly  repeated.  This 
time  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  went  home  raptur- 
ously with  a  keepsake  in  his  breast-pocket — 
he  had  taken  tender  possession  of  one  of  ]\liss 
Bygrave's  glove.s.  At  intervals  during  the 
day,  whenever  he  w£is  alone,  he  took  out  the 


glove,  and  kissed  it  with  a  devotion  which 
was  almost  passionate  in  its  fervor.  The 
miserable  little  creature  luxuriated  in  his  mo- 
ments of  stolen  ha})piness,  with  a  speechless 
and  stealthy  delight  which  was  a  new  sensa- 
tion to  him.  The  few  young  girls  whom  he 
had  met  with  in  his  fatlier's  narrow  circle  at 
Zurich  had  felt  a  mischievous  pleasure  in 
treating  him  like  a  quaint  little  plaything; 
the  strongest  impression  he  could  make  on 
their  hearts  was  an  impression  in  which  their 
lap-dogs  might  have  rivalled  him;  the  deepest 
interest  he  could  create  in  them  was  the  in- 
terest they  might  have  felt  in  a  new  ti-inketor 
a  new  dress.  The  only  women  who  had  hith- 
erto invited  his  admiration,  and  taken  his 
compliments  seriously,  had  been  women  whose 
charms  were  on  the  wane,  and  whose  chanccB 
of  marriage  were  fast  failing  them.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  had  now  passed  hours 
of  happiness  in  the  society  of  a  beautiful  girl, 
who  had  letl  him  to  think  of  her  afterward 
without  a  single  humiliating  remembrance  to 
lower  him  in  his  own  esteem. 

Anxiously  as  lie  tried  to  hide  it,  the  change 
produced  in  his  look  and  manner  by  the  new 
feeling  awakened  in  him  was  not  a  change 
which  could  be  concealed  from  !Mi-s.  Lecount. 
On  the  second  day  she  pointedly  asked  him 
whether  he  had  not  made  an  arrangement  to 
call  on  the  Bygraves.  He  denied  it,  as  before. 
"  Pi»rliaps  _\ou  are  going  to-morrow,  Mr. 
Noel  V"  persisted  the  housekeeper.  He  was 
at  the  end  of  his  resources;  he  was  impatient 
to  be  rid  of  her  inqinries  ;  he  trusted  to  his 
friend  at  North  Shingles  to  help  him;  and 
this  time  he  answered,  Yes.  "  If  you  see  the 
young  lady,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount,  "don't 
tbrget  that  note  of  mine.  Sir,  which  you  have 
in  your  waistcoat- pocket."  No  more  was 
said  on  either  side;  but  by  that  night's  post 
the  housekeeper  wrote  to  Miss  Garth.  The 
letter  merely  acknowledged,  with  thanks,  the 
receipt  of  Miss  Garth's  communication,  and 
informed  her  that  in  a  few  days  Mrs.  Lecount 
hoped  to  be  in  a  position  to  write  again,  and 
summon  Mr.  Pendi'il  to  Aldborough. 

Late  in  the  evening,  when  the  parlor  at 
North  Shingles  began  to  get  dark,  and  when 
the  captain  rang  the  bell  tor  candles  as  usual, 
he  was  surprised  by  hearing  Magdalen's  voice 
in  the  passage,  telling  the  servant  to  take  the 
lights  down  stairs  again.  She  knocked  at  the 
door  innnediately  afterward,  and  glided  into 
the  obscurity  of  the  room  like  a  ghost. 

"  1  have  a  cpiestion  to  ask  you  about  your 
plans  for  to-morrow,"  she  said.  "  My  eyes  are 
very  weak  this  evening,  and  I  hope  you  will 
not  object  to  dispense  with  the  candles  for  a 
few  minutes." 

She  spoke  in  low,  stifled  tones,  and  felt  her 
way  noigelessly  to  a  chair  far  removed  from 
the  captain,  in  the  daikest  part  of  the  room. 
Sitting  near  the  window,  he  could  just  discern 
the  dim  outline  of  her  dress,  he  could  just  hear 
the  faint  accents  of  her  voice.     For  the  last 


158 


NO  NAME. 


two  days  lie  had  seen  nothing  of  her,  expect 
durinn;  their  morninj;  walk.  On  that  after- 
noon he  had  found  his  wife  crying  in  the  little 
back  room  down  stairs.  She  could,  only  tell 
him  that  Magdalen  had  frightened  her— that 
Magdalen  was  going  the  way  again  which  she 
had  gone  when  the  letter  camefrom  China,  in 
the  terrible  past  time  at  Vauxhall  Walk. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  hear  that  you  were  ill,  to- 
day, from  Mrs.  AVragge,"  said  the  captain, 
unconsciously  dropping  his  voice  almost  to  a 
whisper  as  he  spoke. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  answered,  quietly, 
out  of  the  darkness.  "  I  am  strong  enough  to 
suffer  and  live.  Other  girls  in  my  place 
would  have  been  happier  —  they  would  have 
suffered  and  died.  J t  doesn't  matter;  it  will 
be  all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence.  Is 
he  coming  again  to-morrow  morning  at  seven 
o'clock  V" 

"  He  is  coming,  if  you  feel  no  objections  to 
it  ?" 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  make  ;  I  have  done 
with  objecting.  But  I  should  like  to  have  the 
time  altered.  I  don't  look  my  best  "in  the 
early  morning— I  have  bad  nights,  and  I  rise 
haggard  and  worn.  Write  him  a  note  this 
evening,  and  tell  him  to  come  at  twelve 
o'clock." 

"  Twelve  is  rather  late,  under  the  circum- 
stances, lor  you  to  be  seen  out  walking." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  walking.  Let  him 
be  siiown  into  the  parlor — " 

Her  voice  <IIed  away  in  silence  before  she 
ended  the  sentence. 

"  Yes  V"  said  Captain  Wragge. 

"  And  leave  me  alone  in  the  parlor  to  re- 
ceive him." 

"Ay!  ay!"  said  the  captain.  -'I  under- 
stand. I  '11  be  out  of  the  way,  in  the  dining- 
room,  while  he  is  here  ;  and  you  can  come 
and  tell  me  about  it  Avhen  he  has  gone." 

There  was  another  moment  of  silence. 

"  Is  there  no  way  but  telling  you  V"  she 
asked,  suddenly.  "I  can  control  myself 
while  he  is  with  me,  but  I  can't  answer  ior 
Avhat  I  may  say  or  do  afterward.  Is  there  no 
other  way  V" 

"  Plenty  of  ways,"  said  the  captain.  "  Here 
is  the  first  that  occurs  to  me.  Leave  the  blind 
down  over  the  window  of  your  room  up  stairs 
before  he  comes.  I  will  go  out  on  the  beach 
and  wait  there  within  sight  of  the  house. 
When  I  see  him  come  out  again  I  will  look  at 
the  window.  If  he  has  said  nothing,  leave 
the  blind  down.  If  he  has  made  you  an  offer, 
draw  the  blind  up.  The  signal  is  simplicity 
itself;  we  can't  misunderstand  each  other. 
Look  your  best  to-morrow !  Make  sure  of 
him,  my  dear  girl  —  make  sure  of  him,  if  you 
possibly  can."' 

He  had  spoken  loud  enough  to  feel  certain 
that  she  had  heard  him,  but  no  answering 
word  came  from  her.  The  dead  silence  was 
only  disturbed  by  the  rustling  of  her  dress, 
which  told  him  she  had  risen  from  her  chair. 


Her  shadowy  presence  crossed  the  room  again; 
the  door  shut  softly — she  was  gone.  He  rang 
the  bell  hurriedly  for  the  lights.  The  servant 
found  him  standing  close  at  the  window,  look- 
ing less  self-possessed  than  usual.  He  told 
her  he  felt  a  little  poorly,  and  sent  her  to  tho 
cupboard  for  the  brandy. 

At  a  few  minutes  before  twelve  the  next 
day  Captain  Wragge  withdrew  to  his  post  of 
observation,  concealing  himself  behind  a  fish- 
ing-boat drawn  up  on  the  beach.  Pupctually 
as  the  hour  struck  he  saw  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
approach  North  Sliingles  and  open  the  gar- 
den-gate. When  the  house-door  had  closed 
on  the  visitor  Captain  Wragge  settled  himself 
comfortably  against  the  side  of  the  boat  and 
lit  his  cigar. 

He  smoked  for  half  an  hour —  for  ten  min- 
utes over  the  half-hour — by  his  watch.  Ho 
finished  the  cigar  down  to  the  last  morsel  of 
it  that  he  could  hold  in  his  lips.  Just  as  he 
had  thrown  away  the  end  the  door  opened 
again,  and  Noel  Vanstone  came  out. 

The  captain  looked  up  instantly  at  Magda- 
len's window.  In  the  absorbing  excitement 
of  the  moment  he  counted  the  seconds.  She 
might  get  from  the  parlor  to  her  own  room  in 
less  than  a  minute.  He  counted  to  thirty  — 
and  nothing  happened.  He  counted  to  filty — 
and  nothing  happened.  He  gave  up  count- 
ing, and  left  the  boat  impatiently  to  return  to 
the  house. 

As  he  took  his  first  step  forward  he  saw  the 
signal. 

The  blind  was  drawn  up  ! 

Cautiously  ascending  the  eminence  of  the 
beach,  Captain  A\'^ragge  looked  toward  Sea- 
View  Cottage  before  he  showed  himself  on 
the  Parade.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  had  reached 
home  again :  he  was  just  entering  his  owu 
door. 

'•  If  all  your  money  was  offered  me  to  stand 
in  your  shoes"  —  said  the  captain  looking 
after  him  —  "rich  as  you  are,  I  wouldn't  take 
it!' 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

On  returning  to  the  house  Captain  Wragge 
received  a  significant  message  from  the  ser- 
vant. "  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  would  call  again 
at  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  when  he  hoped 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  finding  Mr.  Bygrave 
at  home." 

The  captain's  first  inquiry,  after  bearing 
this  message,  referred  to  Magdalen.  "Where 
was  Miss  Bygrave  ?"  "  In  her  own  room." 
"Where  was  Mrs.  Bygrave  ?"  "  In  the  back  f 
parlor."  Captain  Wragge  turned  his  steps 
at  once  in  the  latter  direction,  and  found  Ims 
wife  for  the  second  time  in  tears.  She  had 
been  sent  out  of  Magdalen's  room  for  the  whole 
day,  and  she  was  at  her  wit's  end  to  know 
what  she  had  done  to  deserve  it.     Shortening 


NO  NAME. 


15> 


her  lamentations  witliont  ceremony,  her  hus- 
band sent  her  up  stairs  on  the  spot,  with  in 
struction.s  to  knock  at  the  door,  and  to  inquire 
whether  JNIagdak^h  could  jjive  five  minutes 
attention  to  a  question  of  importance,  which 
must  be  settled  before  two  o'clock. 

The  answer  returned  was  in  the  negative. 
Magdalen  requested  that  tlie  subject  on  which 
she  was  asked  to  decide  might  be  mentioned 
to  her  in  writing.  She  engaged  to  reply  in 
the  same  way  —  on  the  understanding  that 
Mrs.  Wragge,  and  not  the  servant,  should  be 
<^mj)loyed  to  deliver  the  note,  and  to  take 
back  tiie  answer. 

Captain  Wragge  forthwith  opened  his  pa- 
per-case and  wrote  these  lines :  "Accept  my 
warmest  congratulations  on  the  result  of  your 
interview  with  Mr.  N.  V.  lie  is  coming  again 
at  two  o'clock,  no  doubt  to  make  his  propo- 
sals in  due  form.  The  (juestion  to  decide  is, 
whether  I  shall  pres.s  him  or  not  on  tlie  sub- 
ject of  settlements.  The  considerations  for 
your  own  mind  are  two  in  number.  First, 
whether  the  said  pressure  (without  at  all  un- 
derrating your  influence  over  him)  may  not 
squeeze  for  a  long  time  before  it  squeezes 
money  out  of  Mr.  N.  V.  Secondly,  whether 
we  are  altogether  ju,»;tified — considei'ing  our 
present  position  towaid  a  certain  sharp  prac- 
titioner in  petticoats — in  running  the  risk  of 
delay.  ConsidiM-  these  joints,  and  let  me 
have  your  decision  as  soon  as  convenient." 

The  answer  returned  to  this  note  was  writ- 
ten in  crooked,  blotted  characters,  strangely 
unlike  Magdalen's  usually  firm  and  clear  hand- 
writing. It  only  contained  these  words: 
"Give  yourself  no  trouble  about  settlements. 
Leave  the  use  to  which  he  is  to  put  his  money 
for  the  future  in  my  hands." 

''  ])id  you  see  her  V"  asked  the  captain, 
when  his  wife  had  delivered  the  answer. 

"  I  tried,"'  said  Mr.s.  Wragge,  with  a  fresh 
burst  of  tears  —  "but  she  "only  opened  the 
door  far  enough  to  put  out  her  hand.  I  took 
and  gave  it  a  little  squeeze  —  and,  oh,  poor 
«ouI,  it  felt  .'io  cold  in  mine  !" 

When  Mrs.  Lecount's  master  made  his  ap- 
pearance at  two  o'clock  he  stood  alarmingly 
in  need  of  an  anodyne  application  from  ]\Irs. 
Lecount's  green  fun.  The  agitation  of  mak- 
ing his  avowal  to  Magdalen;  the  terror  of 
finding  himself  discovered  by  the  housekeep- 
er;  the  tormenting  suspicion  of  the  hard  pe- 
cuniary conditions  which  Magdalen's  relative 
and  guardian  might  impose  on  him — all  these 
emotions,  stirring  in  conflict  together,  had  over- 
powered his  feebly-working  heart  with  a  trial 
that  strained  It  sonly.  He  gasped  for  breath 
as  he  sat  down  in  the  parlor  at  North  Shingles, 
and  that  ominous  bluish  pallor  which  always 
overspread  his  face  in  moments  of  agitation 
now  made  its  warning  appearance  again. 
Captain  Wragge  seized  the  brandy-bottle  in 
genuine  alarm,  and  forced  his  visitor  to  driidc 
a  winegla-ssful  of  the  .spirit  before  a  word  was 
said  between  them  on  either  side. 


Restored  by  the  stimulant,  and  encouraged 
by  the  readiness  with  which  the  captain  anVic- 
ipated  everything  that  he  had  to  say,  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  contrived  to  state  the  serious 
object  of  his  visit  in  tolerably  plain  terms. 
All  the  conventional  preliminaries  proper  to 
tiie  occasion  were  easily  disposed  ol.  Thb 
suitor's  family  was  respectable;  his  position 
in  life  was  undeniably  satisfactory  ;  his  attach- 
ment, though  hasty,  was  evidently  disinter- 
ested and  sincere.  All  that  Captain  Wrajr<'o 
had  to  do  was  to  refer  to  these  various  txm- 
sidcratious  with  a  haj)py  choice  of  lanmia'^e, 
in  a  voice  that  trembled  witii  manly  emotion — 
and  this  he  did  to  perlection.  For  the  first 
halt-hour  of  the  interview  no  allusion  what- 
ever was  made  to  the  delicate  and  danger- 
ous part  of  the  subject.  The  captain  wailed 
until  he  had  composed  his  visitor,  and  when 
that  result  was  achieved  came  smoothly  to 
the  point  in  these  terms: 

"  There  is  one  little  difficulty,  Mr.  Van- 
stone,  which  I  think  we  have  both  overlooked. 
Your  housekeeper's  recent  conduct  inclines 
nie  to  fear  that  she  will  view  the  approach- 
ing change  in  your  life  with  anything  but  a 
friendly  eye.  Probably  you  have  not  thought 
it  necessary  yet  to  inform  her  of  the  new  lie 
which  you  propose  to  form  V" 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  turned  pale  at  the  bare 
idea  of  explaining  himself  to  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  I  cant  tell  what  I  'm  to  do,"  he  said, 
glancing  aside  nervously  at  the  window,  as  if 
he  e.\i)ected  to  see  the  housekeeper  peeping 
in.  "  I  hate  all  awkward  positions;  and  this 
Is  the  most  unplea.sant  position  I  ever  was 
placed  in.  You  don't  know  what  a  terrible 
woman  Lecount  is.  I  'm  not  afraid  of  her ; 
pray  don't  suppose  I  'm  afraid  of  her — " 

At  those  words  his  fears  rose  in  his  throat, 
and  gave  him  the  lie  direct  by  sto])ping  his 
utterance. 

"  Fray  don't  trouble  yourself  to  explain," 
said  Captain  Wragge,  coming  to  the  rescue. 
"  'J'his  is  the  common  story,  Mr.  Vanstone. 
II(;re  is  a  woman  who  has  giown  old  in  your 
service,  and  in  your  father's  service  before 
you ;  a  woman  who  has  contrived,  in  all  sorts 
of  small  underhand  ways,  to  presume  system- 
atically on  her  position  for  yt'ars  and  years 
past;  a  woman,  in  short,  whom  your  incon- 
siderate but  perfectly  natural  kindness  has 
allowed  to  claim  a  right  of  property  in  you — " 

"  Property  !"  cried  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  mis- 
taking the  captain,  and  letting  the  truth  es- 
cape him  through  sheer  inability  to  conceal 
his  fears  any  longer.  "I  don't  know  what 
amount  of  properly  she  won't  claim.  She  '11 
make  me  pay  for  my  father  as  well  as  for 
myself  Thousands,  Mr.  Bygrave — thousands 
of  pounds  sterling  out  of  my  pocket ! ! !"  He 
clasped  his  hands  in  despair  at  the  picture  of 
pecuniary  compulsion  which  his  fancy  had 
conjured  up,  his  own  golden  life-blood  spout- 
ing from  him  in  great  jets  of  prodigality 
under  the  lancet  of  Mrs.  Lecount ! 


160 


NO  NAME. 


"  Gontl}',  Mr.  Vanstone  —  gently  !  The 
woman  knows  nothing  so  far,  and  the  money 
is  not  gone  yet." 

"  No,  no  —  the  money  is  not  gone,  as  you 
say.  I  'm  only  nervous  about  it ;  I  can't  help 
being  nervous.  You  were  saying  something 
just  now;  you  were  going  to  give  me  advice. 
I  value  your  advice  —  you  don't  know  how 
highly  I  value  your  advice."  He  said  those 
words  with  a  conciliatory  smile,  Avhich  was 
more  than  helpless:  it  was  absolutely  servile 
in  its  dependence  on  his  judiciou.-f  friend. 

"  I  was  only  assuring  you,  my  dear  Sir, 
that  I  understood  your  position,"  said  the 
captain.  "  I  see  your  diiliculty  as  plainly  as 
you  can  see  it  yourself.  Tell  a  woman  like 
Mrs.  Lecount  that  she  must  come  oft"  her 
domestic  throne  to  make  way  for  a  young 
and  beautiful  successor,  armed  with  the  au- 
thority of  a  wife,  and  an  unpleasant  scene 
must  be  the  inevitable  result.  An  unpleasant 
scene,  Mr.  Vanstone,  if  your  opinion  of  your 
housekeeper's  sanity  is  well  founded.  Some- 
thing far  more  si^rious,  if  my  opinion  that  her 
intellect  is  unsettled  happens  to  turn  out  tlu' 
right  one." 

"I  don't  say  it.isu't  my  opinion  Ion,"  re- 
joined Mr.  Noel  Vanstone ;  "  especially  aftur 
•what  has  happened  to-day." 

Captain  Wragge  immediately  bogged  to 
know  wiiat  the  event  alluded  to  might  be. 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  thereupon  explained — 
with  an  infinite  number  of  parentheses  all 
referring  to  liimself — that  Mrs.  Lecount  had 
put  the  dreaded  question  relating  to  the  little 
note  in  her  master's  pocket  barely  an  liour 
since.  He  had  answered  her  inquiry  as  Mr. 
Bygrave  liad  advised  him.  On  hearing  that 
the  accuracy  of  the  personal  description  had 
been  fairly  put  to  the  test,  and  had  failed  in 
the  one  important  particular  of  the  moles  on 
the  neck,  Mrs.  Lecount  had  considered  a  lit- 
tle, and  had  then  asked  him  whether  he  had 
shown  her  note  to  Mr.  Bygrave  before  the 
experiment  was  fa-ied  ?  He  had  answered  in 
the  negative,  as  the  only  safe  form  of  reply 
that  he  could  think  of  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment ;  and  the  housekeeper  had  thereupon 
addressed  liim  in  these  strange  and  startling 
words  :  "  You  are  keeping  the  truth  from  me, 
Mr.  Noel.  You  are  trusting  strangers,  and 
doubting  your  old  servant  and  your  old  friend. 
Every  time  you  go  to  JVIr.  Bygrave's  house, 
every  time  you  see  Miss  Bygrave,  you  are 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  your  destruc- 
tion. They  have  got  the  bandage  over  your 
eyes  in  spite  of  me;  but  I  tell  them,  and  tell 
you,  before  many  days  are  over  I  will  take  it 
ofiTl'  To  this  extraordinar}-  outbreak  —  ac- 
companied as  it  was  by  an  expression  in  Mrs. 
Lecount's  face  which  he  had  never  seen  there 
before  —  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  made  no  reply. 
Mr.  Bygrave's  conviction  that  there  was  a 
lurking  taint  of  insanity  in  the  housekeeper's 
blood  had  recurred  to  his  memory,  and  he 
had  left  the  room  at  the  first  opportunity. 


Captain  Wragge  listened  with  the  closest 
attention  to  the  narrative  thus  presented  to 
him.  But  one  conclusion  could  be  drawn 
from  it  —  it  was  a  plain  warning  to  him  to 
hasten  the  end. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  to 
hear  that  you  are  inclining  more  favorably  to 
my  opinion.  After  what  you  have  just  told 
me,  Mr.  Vanstone,  no  scnsihle  man  could  do 
otherwise.  This  is  becoming  serious.  I  hardly 
know  what  results  may  not  be  expected  to 
follow  the  conununication  of  your  ap])roach- 
ing  change  of  life  to  Mrs.  Lecount.  My  niece 
may  be  involved  in  tiiose  results.  She  is 
nervous ;  she  is  sensitive  in  the  highest  de- 
gree;  she  is  the  innocent  object  of  this  wo- 
man's unreasoning  hatred  and  distrust.  You 
alarm  me,  Sir  !  I  am  not  easily  thrown  off 
my  balance ;  but  I  acknowledge  you  alarm  me 
for  the  future."  He  frowned,  shook  his  head, 
and  looki'd  at  his  visitor  despondently. 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  began  to  feel  uneasy. 
The  change  in  Mr.  Bygrave's  manner  seemed 
ominous  of  a  reconsideration  of  his  proposals 
from  a  new  and  an  unfavorable  point  of  view. 
He  took  counsel  of  his  inborn  cowardlf^e  and 
his  inborn  cunning,  and  ])roj)oscd  a  solution  of 
the  difficulty  disci;vered  by  himself. 

"Why  should  we  tell  Ivccount  at  all  V  he 
a.^ked.  "What  right  has  Lecount  to  know? 
Can't  we  be  married  without  letting  hei"  into 
the  secret?  And  can't  somebody  tell  her 
afterward,  when  we  are  both  out  of  her 
reach  ?" 

Captain  Wragge  received  this  ])ro})Osal  with 
an  expression  of  surprise  wliich  did  infinite 
credit  to  his  power  o("  control  over  his  own 
countenance.  His  foremost  objecit  throughout 
the  interview  had  been  to  conduct  it  to  this 
point — or,  in  other  words,  to  make  the  first 
idea  of  keeping  the  marriage  a  secret  from 
Mrs.  Lecount  emanate  from  Noel  Vanstone 
instead  of  from  himself.  No  one  knew  better 
than  the  captain  that  the  only  responsibilities 
which  a  weak  man  ever  accepts  are  respon- 
sibilities which  can  be  perpetually  pointed  out 
to  him  as  resting  exclusively  on  his  own 
shoulders. 

"  I  am  accustomed  to  set  my  face  against 
clandestine  proceedings  of  all  kinds,"  said 
Captain  Wragge.  "  But  there  are  exceptions 
to  the  strictest  rules :  and  I  am  bound  to 
admit,  Mr,  Vanstone,  that  your  position  in 
this  matter  is  an  exceptional  position,  if  ever 
there  was  one  yet.  The  course  you  have  just 
proposed — however  unbecoming  I  may  think 
it ;  however  distasteful  it  may  be  to  myself — 
would  not  only  spare  you  a  very  serious  em- 
barrassment (to  say  the  least  of  it),  but  would 
also  protect  you  from  the  personal  assertion 
of  those  pecuniary  claims  on  the  part  of  your 
housekeeper  to  which  you  have  already  ad- 
verted. These  are  both  desirable  results  to 
achieve  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  removal,  on 
my  side,  of  all  apprehension  of  annoyance  to 
my  niece.     On  the  other   hand,  however,  a 


NO  NAME. 


161 


marriage    solemnized  with   such    privacy   as  j 
you  propose  must  be  a  basty  murriafre  —  for,  ] 
as  we  are  situated,  tlie  longer  tlie  delay,  the  i 
greater  will  be  the  risk  tliat  our  secret  may  i 
eseape  our  keeping.     I  am  not  against  hasty 
marriage^  where  a  mutual  flame  is. fanned  l)"v 
.'in   adequate  income.     My  own   was  a  love- 
match,   contracted  in    a    hurry.      Tiiere    are 
plenty  oliustarjces  in  the  experience  of  every 
one  of  short  courtsliips  and  speedy  inarria-res 
which  have  turned  up  trumps — I  beg  vour 
pardon — which  have  turned  out  well  after  all. 
But  if  you  and  my  niece,  Mr.  Vanstone,  are 
to  add  one  to  ihe  nnmijcr  of  these  cases,  the 
usual  pr(;liminaries   of  marriage   among  the 
highc)-   classes    must   be    hastened    by  "some 
means.     You  doubtless  understand  nie'as  now 
referring  to  the  subject  of  settlements  ?" 

"I'll  take  another  teaspoonful  of  brandv," 
said  Mr.  Xoel  Vanstone,  hohling  out  his  glass 
with  a  trembling  hand  as  the  word  "  settle- 
ments" passed  Captiin  W'ragge's  lips. 

"I  'li  take  a  tcaspoantul  with  vou,"  said 
the  captain,  nimbly  dismounting 'from  the 
pedestal  of  his  Jc-^pcetabiiitv,  and'%ipping  his, 
brandy  with  the  highest  relish.  j\lr.  Noel 
Vanstone.  after  nervously  following  his  host's 
example,  composed  himself  to  meet  the  com- 
ing onlea! — with  reclining  head  aiid  grasping 
hands-—iu  the  position  familiarly  associated  to 
all  civilized  humanity,  with  a  seat  in  a  den- 
tist's chair. 

The  captain  put  down  his  emptv  glass  and 
got  up  again  on  ids  |)edestal. 

"  We  were  talking  of  settlements,"  he  re-  i 
sumed.      '-I   have    already    mentioned,   Mr.! 
Vanstone,  at  an  earlier  period  of  our  conver- 
sation, that  my  niece  presents  the  man  of  her  j 
choice  with  no  other  dowry  than   the   most  : 
inestinuible  of  all  gifts  — the  irift  of  herself  i 
ihis  on-cumslance,  however  (as  vou   are  no 
Idoiiht  aware),  does  not  disentitle  iue  to  make  I 
jthe    customary  stipulations   with    her   future 
[husoand.     Ae.-ording   to  tlie   usual  course  in  ■ 
[this  matter,  my  lawyer  would  see,  vours— con- 
isidtations  would  take   place  —  (Udavs   would! 
loccur— strangers  would   he   in   posse.ssion  of 
lyour   intentions  — and  Mrs.  Lecount  would,  I 
sooner  or  h.ter,  arrive  at  that  knowled-e  of 
the  truth  which  you  are  anxious  to  keep' from  ! 
Ji'M-.     Do  you  agree  with  me  so  far?"  i 

Unutterable  appridicnsion  clo.sed  Mr  Noel 
Vanstone's  lips.     Jle  could  only  reply  bv  an  I 
inclination  of  the  head.  >  ^     . 

[  "  Very  good."  .said  the  captain.  "  Now,  Sir, 
rou  ma}-  possibly  have  observed  that  I  am  a 
JTian  ol  a  very  original  turn  of  mind.  If  J  ],,ive 
lot  hitherto  struck  you  in  that  light,  it  may 
h«'n  be  nece.ssary  to  mention  that  there  are 
ome  subjects  on  which  I  persist  in  tiiinkin'r 
or  myselt.  The  subject  of  marriage  settled 
lents  IS  one  of  them.  What,  let  me  a>k  vou 
oes  a  parent  or  guardian  in  my  present  po^il 
ion  usually  do?  After  having  trusted  the 
uvn  whom  he  has  chosen  for  his  son-in-law 
itL  the  sacred  deposit  of  a  woman's  ha])])!- 


21 


ness,  he  turns  round  on  that  man.  and  declines 
to  trust  him  with  the  infinitelv  inferior  respon- 
sdnlity  of  providing  for  her  j*e:uniarv  future. 
Ue  fetters  his  .son-in-!aw  with  the  most  bindin'r 
document  tlie  law  can  produce,  and  emplovl 
with  the  husband  of  his  own  child  the  same 
precautions  which   he  would  use  if  he  were 
dealing  with  a  stranger  and  a  ro.Tue.     I  call 
I  such  eondu<-t  as  this  inconsistent  and  unbecom- 
j  ing  III  the  last  degree.     You  will  not  find  it 
j  my  course  of  conduit,  Mr.  Vanstone;  vou  will 
not  find  me  preaching  what  I  don't  practice 
I  If  I  trust  you  with  my  niece.  I  trust  vou  with 
•  every  inferior  responsibility  toward  "her  and 
J  toward  me.     Give  me  your  hand,  Sir;  tell  me 
'  on  your  word  of  honor  that  you  will  provide 
,  for  your  wife  as  becomes  her  position  and  your 
!  means,  and  the  cpiestion  of  settlements  is  de- 
j  cided  between  us  from  this  moment,  at  once 
and  for  ever  !"    Having  carried  out  .MaT<lalen's 
'  instructions  in  this  lofty  tone,  he  threw  open 
i  Ins  respectable  fio.'k-coat,  and  sat,  with  head 
{  erect  and  hand  extended,  the  model  of  parent- 
,  <il  leehiig,  and  the  picture  of  human  inte<rriiy 
j      For   one   moment   Mr.   Noel  Vanstone  re- 
I  maincd    literally    petrified    bv    astonishment. 
I  Ihe  next,  hestarted  fiom  his  chair,  and  wrun'^ 
j  the    hand    of   his    magnanimous,  friend   in    a 
j  perfect  transport  of  admiration.     Never  yet 
I  throujiiiout   his  long  and   varied  career,  had' 
Captain  Wragge  felt  such  dUficulty  in  keepin.r 
his  countenance  as  he  felt  now.     Contempt  for 
'  the  outburst  of  miserly  jrratituile  of  which  he 
I  was  the  object;   triumph  in  the  sense  of  suc- 
t  cessful  conspiracy  ag,iinst  a  man  who  had  rated 
the  ofTer  of  his  protection  at  five  pounds;  re- 
gret at  the  lost  opportunity  of  eirecting  a'fine 
stroke  ol' moral  agriculture,  which  his  (fread  of 
involving  himself  in  coming  consccpiences  had 
forced  him  to  let  slip  — all  these  varied  emo- 
tions agitated  the  captain's  mind;    all  strove 
togetiier    to   find    their   way   to   the   surface 
through  the  outlets  of  his  face  or  his  tonf^uc. 
PL.'  allowed  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  keep  jw^scs- 
sion  of  his  hand,  and  to  heap  one  scries  of  shrill 
protestations  and  j>;-omises  on  another,  until  he 
had  regained  his  usu,'d  mastery  over  himself. 
That  result  achieved,  he  put  the  little  man 
back  in  his  chair,  and  returned  forthwith  to 
the  subject  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

'I  Suppose  we  now  revert  to  the  difTiculty 
which  we  have  not  conquered  yet,"  said  the 
captiin.  "  Let  us  say  that  I  do  violence  to  my 
own  iiabits  and  feelings ;  that  I  allow  the  con- 
siderations I  have  already  mentioned  to  weif'h 
with  me;  and  that  I  sanction  your  wish  to  be 
united  to  my  niece  without  the  knowledrre  of 
Mrs.  Lecount.  Allow  me  to  iiupjire,  in'^tliat 
ease,  what  means  you  can  suggest  for  the  ac- 
plishinent  of  your  end  V" 

•'  I  can't  suggest  anything,"  leplied  Mr.  Noel 
Vanston.',  helplessly.  "  AVould  you  <*jeet  to 
suggest  for  nic '?" 

'•  You  are  making  a  bolder  request  than  you 
think,  Mr.  Vanstone.  I  never  do  things  by 
halves.     U'heu  I  am  acting'  with  uiv  cultoiii- 


162 


:S0  NAME. 


ary  candor,  I  am  frank  (as  you  know  already) 
to  tha  utmost  verge  of  imprudence.  When 
exceptional  circumstances  compel  me  to  take 
an  opposite  course,  there  isn't  a  slyer  fox  alive 
than  I  am.  If,  at  your  express  request,  I  take 
off  my  honest  English  coat  here,  and  put  on  a 
Jesuit's  gown- — if,  purely  out  of  sympathy  for 
your  awkward  position,  I  consent  to  keep  your 
.secret  for  you'  from  Mrs.  Lecount  —  I  must 
have  no  unseasonable  scruples  to  contend  witli 
on  your  part.  If  it  is  neck  or  nothing  on  my 
side,  Sir,  it  must  be  neck  or  nothing  on  yours 
also !" 

"'  Neck  or  nothing  by  all  means."  said  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone,  briskly,  '-on  the  understand- 
ing that  }ou  go  first.  I  have  no  scruples  about 
keeping  Lecount  in  the  dark.  But  slie  is 
devilish  cunning,  Mr.  Bygrave.  IIow  is  it  to 
be  done  V  ' 

"  You  shall  hear  directly,"  replied  the  cap- 
tain. "  Belbre  I  develop  my  views  I  should 
like  to  hear  your  opinion  on  an  abstract  (jues- 
tiou  of  morality.  What  do  you  think,  my  dear 
Sir,  of  pious  frauds  in  general  V" 

iNIr.  ^oel  Vanstone  looked  a  little  embar- 
rassed by  the  question. 

"  Shall  I  put  it  more  plainly  V"  continued 
Captain  Wragge.  "  AVhat  do  you  say  t»  the 
universally-accepted  maxim,  that  'all  strata- 
gems are  fair  in  love  and  war?'  —  Yes  or 
No?" 

"  Yes !"  answered  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  with 
the  utmost  readiness. 

"  One  more  question  and  I  have  done,"  said 
the  captain.  "  Do  you  see  any  particular  ob- 
jection to  practiciiig  a  pious  fi-aud  on  Mrs. 
Lecount  ?" 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  resolution  began  to 
falter  a  little. 

'•  Is  Lecount  likely  to  find  it  out  ?"  he  asked, 
cautiously. 

"  She  can't  possibly  discover  it  until  after 
you  are  married  and  out  of  her  reach." 

"  You  are  sure  of  that  ?" 

'■  Quite  sure." 

"  Play  any  trick  you  like  on  Lecount,"  said 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  with  an  air  of  unutterable 
relief.  "  I  have  had  my  suspicions  lately  that 
she  is  trying  to  domineer  over  me  ;  I  am  be- 
ginning to  feel  that  I  Jiave  borne  with  Lecount 
long  enough.     I  wish  1  was  well  rid  of  her." 

"  You  shall  have  your  wish,"  said  Captain 
Wragge.  "  You  shall  be  rid  of  her  in  a  week 
or  ten  days." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  rose  eagerly  and  ap- 
proached the  captain's  chair. 

"  You  dou*t  say  so  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  How 
do  you  mean  ti  send  her  away  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  send  her  on  a  journey,"  replied 
Captain  Wragire. 

"  Where '?"  '^ 

"  From  your  house  at  Aldborough  to  her 
brother's  bedside  at  Zurich." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  started ,  back  at  the 
answer,  and  returned  suddenly  to  his  chair. 

"How  can  you  do  that?"  he  inquii'ed,  in 


the  greatest  perplexity.  "  Her  brother  (hang 
him  I)  is  much  better.  She  had  another  letter 
from  Zurich  to  say  so,  this  morning." 

"  Did  you  see  the  letter  ?" 

"  Yes.  She  always  worries  about  her  brothei 
— sl'.e  would  show  it  to  me." 

'•  Who  was  it  from  V  and  what  did  it  say  ?" 

'•  It  was  from  the  doctor  —  he  always  wi*itei 
to  her.  I  don't  ('are  two  straws  about  h  i 
brother:  and  I  don't  remember  much  of  the 
letter,  except  that  it  was  a  short  one.  The 
fellow  was  much  better;  and  if  the  doctor 
didn't  write  again  she  might  take  it  for  grant- 
ed that  he  was  getting  well.  That  was  the 
substance  of  it." 

'•  Did  you  notice  where  she  put  the  letter 
when  you  gave  it  her  back  again  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  she  put  it  in  the  drawer  where  she 
keeps  her  account-books." 

"  Can  you  get  at  that  drawer  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  can.  I  have  got  a  duplicate 
key — I  always  insist  on  a  duplicate  key  of  the 
place  where  she  keeps  her  account-books.  I 
never  allow  tlie  account-books  to  be  locked  up 
j'rom  my  inspection  :  it  's  a  rule  of  the  house." 

■'  Be  so  good  as  to  get  that  letter  to-day, 
Mr.  Vanstone,  without  your  housekeeper's 
knowledge ;  and  add  to  the  favor  by  letting 
me  have  it  here  privately  /or  an  hour  or 
two." 

"  AVhat  do  you  want  it  for  ?" 

"  I  have  some  more  cpiestions  to  ask  before 
I  can  tell  you.  Have  you  any  intimate  friend 
at  Zurich  whom  you  could  trust  to  help  you  in 
playing  a  trick  on  Mrs.  Lecount?" 

"  What  sort  of  help  do  you  mean  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone. 

*■  Suppose,"  said  th(!  captain,  "you  were  to 
send  a  letter  addressed  to  Mrs.  Lecount,  at 
Aldborough,  inclosed  in  anotlier  letter  address- 
ed to  one  of  yom-  friends  abroad  ?  And  sup- 
pose you  were  to  instruct  that  friend  to  help  a 
harmless  practical  joke  by  ])osting  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  letter  at  Zurich  ?  Do  3'ou  know  any 
one  who  could  be  trusted  to  do  that?" 

"  I  know  two  people  who  cotild  be  trusted  I" 
cried  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  "Both  ladies  — 
both  spinsters — both  bitter  enemies  of  Le- 
count's.  But  what  is  your  drift,  Mr.  Bygrave  ? 
Though  I  am  not  usually  wanting  in  penetra- 
tion, I  don't  altogether  see  your  dritt." 

"  You  shall  see  it  directly  Mr.  Vanstone." 

With  these  words  he  rose,  withdrew  to  his 
desk  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  wrote  a 
few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  note-paper.  After  first 
reading  them  carefully  to  himself,  lie  beckoned 
to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  come  and  read  them 
too. 

"  A  few  minutes  since,"  said  the  captain, 
pointing  complacently  to  his  own  composition 
with  the  feather  end  of  his  pen,  "1  had  the 
honor  of  suggesting  a  pious  fraud  on  Mrs. 
Lecount.     There  it  is  !" 

He  resigned  his  chair  at  the  writing-table  to 
his  visitor.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  sat  down  and 
read  these  lines : 


NO  NAIVIE. 


163 


"Mt  DEAR  Madam.— Since  I  last  wrote!  deeply  regret 
(inform  yon  tUnt  your  brother  lias  snffereil  a  relapse. 
The  symptoms  are  so'serious  tliat  it  is  my  painful  duty  to 
Bumiiion  vou  instantly  to  his  bedside.  I  am  makins  every 
effort  to  "resist  the  renewed  progress  of  tlie  malady,  and 
I  have  not  yet  lost  all  hope  of  success.  ]>ut  I  can  not  rec- 
oncile it  t  I'niy  conscience  to  leave  yon  in  ignorance  of  n 
serious  clruige"  in  my  patient  for  the  wirse.  which  mat/  be 
attended  by  fatal  results.  With  much  sympathy.  1  remain, 
etc..  etc..  etc." 

Captain  Wrafrgo  waited  with  some  anxiety 
for  tlie  ciri'd  which  this  letter  might  profUu-e. 
Mean,  selfish,  and  cowardly  as  he  was,  even 
Noid  Vanstone  might  feel  some  compunction 
at  practicing  sticli  a  deception  as  was  here 
su'To-ested  on  a  woman  who  stood  toward  him 
in  the  position  of  Mrs.  Lecount.  She  had 
served  liini  faithfully,  however  interested  her 
motives  might  be — she  had  lived,  since  he  was 
a  lad,  in  tlie  full  po.ssession  of  his  lather's  con- 
fidence —  she  was  living  now  under  the  pro- 
tection of  his  own  roof  Could  he  fail  to 
remember  this;  and,  remembering  it,  could 
he  lend  his  aid  without  hesitation  to  the 
scheme  which  was  now  proposed  to  him  ? 
Captain  Wragtre  unconsciously  retained  be- 
lief enough  in  human  nature  to  doubt  it.  To 
his  surprise,  and,  it  must  be  added,  to  his  relief 
also,  his  apjirehensions  proved  to  be  perfectly 
groundless.  The  only  emotions  aroused  in  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  mind  by  a  perusal  ot  the  let- 
ter were  a  hearty  admiration  of  his  friend's 
idea,  and  a  vainglorious  anxietj''  to  claim  the 
credit  to  himself  of  being  the  person  who 
carried  it  out.  H\am])les  inay  be  found  every 
day  of  a  fool  who  is  no  coward ;  examples 
may  be  ibund  occasionally  of  a  fool  who  is 
not  cunning;  but  it  may  reasonably  be  doubt- 
ed whether  there  is  a  producible  instance  any- 
where of  a  fool  who  is  not  cruel. 

"  Perfect  I"  cried  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  clap- 
ping his  hands.  . "  Mr.  Bygrave,  }ou  are  as 
good  as  Figaro  in  the  French  comedy.  Talk- 
ing of  Fj'ench,  there  is  one  .serious  mistake  in 
this  clever  letter  of  yours — it  is  written  in  the 
wrong  language.  When  the  doctor  writes  to 
Lecount,  he  writes  in  French.  Perhaps  you 
meant  me  to  translate  it?  You  can't  manage 
without  my  help,  can  you  ?  I  write  French  as 
fluently  as  I  write  English.  Just  look  at  me  ! 
I  '11  translate  it,  while  I  sit  here,  in  two  strokes 
of  the  pen." 

He  completed  the  translation  almost  as  rap- 
idly as  Captain  Wragge  had  produced  the 
original.  "  Wait  a  minute  !"  he  cried,  in  high 
critical  trium])h  at  discovering  another  defect 
in  the  composition  of  his  ingenious  friend. 
"  The  doctor  always  dates  his  letters.  Here  is 
no  date  to  yours." 

"  I  leave  the  date  to  you,"  said  the  captain, 
with  a  sardonic  smile.  "  You  have  discovered 
the  fault,  my  dear  Sir — pray  correct  it !" 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  mentally  looked  into  the 
great  gulf  which  separates  the  faculty  that 
can  discover  a  defect  from  the  faculty  that 
can  apply  a  remedy  —  and,  following  the  ex- 
ample of  many  a  wiser  man,  declined  to  cross 
over  it. 


"  I  couldn't  think  of  taking  the  liberty,"  he 
said,  politely.  "  Perhaps  you  had  a  motive  for 
leaving  the  date  out  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  had,"  replied  Captain  Wragge, 
with  his  easiest  good  humor.  "  The  date  must 
depend  on  the  time  a  letter  takes  to  get  to 
Zurich.  /  have  had  no  experience  on  that 
point  —  you  mast  have  had  plenty  of  experi- 
ence in  your  father's  time.  Give  me  tht>,  ben- 
efit of  your  information,  and  we  will  add 
the  date  before  you  leave  the  writiuir-table." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  experience  was,  as 
Captain  ^Vraggl>  had  anticipated,  perfectly 
competent  to  settle  the  question  of  time.  The 
railway  resources  of  the  Continent  (in  the 
year  eighteen  hundred  and  tbrty-seven)  were 
but  scanty ;  and  a  letter  sent,  at  that  period, 
from  England  to  Zurich,  and  from  Zurich 
back  again  to  England,  occupied  ten  days  in 
making  the  double  journey  by  post. 

"  Date  the  letter,  in  French,  five  days  on 
from  to-morrow,"  said  the  captain,  when  he 
had  got  his  information.  "  Very  good.  The 
next  thing  is  to  let  me  have  the  doctoi-'s  note 
as  soon  as  you  can.  I  may  be  obliged  to 
practice  some  hours  before  I  can  copy  your 
translation  in  an  exact  imitation  of  the  doc- 
tor's handwriting.  Have  you  got  any  foreign 
note-paper V  Let  me  have  a  few  sheets;  and 
send,  at  the  same  time,  an  envelope,  addressed 
to  one  of  those  lady  -  friends  of  yours  at 
Zurich,  accompanied  by  th(!  necessary  re- 
()uest  to  post  the  iticlosure.  That  is  all  I  need 
trouble  you  to  do,  IMr.  Vanstone.  Don't  let 
me  seem  inhospitable;  but  the  sooner  you  can 
supply  me  with  my  materials,  the  better  I 
shall  be  pleased.  We  entirely  understand 
each  other,  I  suppose  ?  Having  accepted 
your  proposal  for  my  niece's  hand,  I  sanction 
a  private  marriage  in  consideration  of  the  cir- 
cumstances on  your  side.  A  little  harmless 
stratagem  is  necessary  to  forward  your  views. 
I  invent  the  stratagem  at  your  request,  and 
you  make  use  of  it  without  the  least  hesita- 
tion. The  result  is,  that  in  ten  days  from 
to-morrow  Mrs.  Lecount  will  be  on  her  way 
to  Switzerland — ^in  fifteen  days  from  to-mor- 
row Mrs.  Lecount  will  reach  Zurich,  and  dis- 
cover the  trick  we  have  played  her — in 
twenty  days  from  to-morrow  Mrs.  Lecount 
will  be  bark  at  Aldborough,  and  will  find  her 
master's  wedding-cards  on  the  table,  and  bcr 
master  himself  away  on  his  honey -moon  trip. 
I  put  it  arithmetically,  for  the  sake  of  put- 
ting it  plain,  (lod  bless  you.  Good -morn- 
ing !" 

"  I  suppose  I  may  have  the  happiness  of 
seeing  Miss  Bygrave  to-morrow  ?"'  said  Mv. 
Noel  Vanstone,  turning  round  at  the  door. 

"  We  must  be  carctui,"  replied  Captain 
Wragge.  "  I  don't  forbid  to-morrow  ;  but  I 
make  no  promise  beyond  that.  Permit  me  to 
remind  you  that  we  have  got  Mrs.  Lecount  to 
manage  for  the  next  ten  days." 

"  I  wish  Lecount  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
German  Ocean !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Noel   Van- 


164 


NO  NAME. 


stone,  fervently.  "  It 's  all  very  well  for  vou 
to  manage  her  —  you  ilon't  live  in  the  hoiue. 
What  am  I  to  do  V" 

'•I  'II  tell  you  to-morrow,"  said  the  captain. 
"Go  out  for  your  walk  alone,  and  drop  in  here, 
as  you  dropped  in  to-day,  at  two  o'clock.  In 
the  meantime,  don't  forijet  those  things  I  want 
you  to  send  me.  Seal  them  up  together  in  a 
large  envelope.  When  you  have  done  that, 
ask  Mrs.  Leeoimt  to  walk  out  with  you  as 
usual ;  and  while  she  is  up  stairs  putting  her 
bonnet  on  send  tlie  servant  across  to  me.  You 
understand  ?     Good-morning." 

An  hour  afterwaid  tlie  sealed  envelope, 
with  its  inclosures,  reached  Captain  Wrasrije 
in  perfect  safety.  The  double  task  of  exactlv 
imitating  a  strange  handwriting,  and  accu- 
rately copying  words  written  in  a  language 
with  which  he  Avas  but  slightly  acquaintetl, 
presented  more  difficulties'"  to  "be  overcome 
than  the  captain  liad  anticipated.  It  was 
eleven  o'clock  before  tlie  cmj)loyment  wl)ich 
he  had  undertaken  was  successfully  completed, 
and  the  letter  to  Zurich  ready  for  the  post. 

Before  going  to  bed  he  walked  out  on  the 
deserted  Parade  to  br(>athe  the  cool  ni<:ht  air. 
All  the  lights  were  extinguished  in  Sea-View 
Cottage,  when  he  looked  that  way,  except 
the  ligiit  in  the  housekeeper's  window.  Cap> 
tain  Wragge  shook  his  head  suspiciously.  He 
had  gained  experience  enough  by  this  time  to 
distrust  the  wakefulness  of  iilrs.  Lecount. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

If  Captain  Wragge  could  lutvp  looked  into 
]\Irs.  Lecount's  room  while  he  stood  on  the 
Parade  watching  the  light  in  her  wiiidow,  he 
woijld  have  seen  the  liousekeeper  sitting  ab- 
sorbed in  meditation  over  a  worthless  little 
morsel  of  brown  stuiF  wliicli  lay  on  her  toilet- 
table. 

However  exasperating  to  herself  the  con- 
clusion might  be,  Mrs.  Lecount  could  not  fail 
to  see  that  she  had  been  thus  far  met  and  baf- 
fled successfully  at  every  point.  What  was 
she  to  do  next  ?  If  she  sent  for  Mr.  Pendril, 
when  he  came  to  Aldborough  (with  only  a  few 
hours  spared  from  his  business  at  her  disposal) 
w^hat  definite  cour.'se  would  there  be  for  him 
to  follow  ?  If  she  showed  I\Ir.  Noel  Vanstone 
the  original  letter  from  which  her  note  had 
been  copied,  he  would  apply  instantly  to  the 
writer  for  an  explanation  —  Avhich  would  ex- 
pose the  fabricated  story  by  which  Mrs.  Le- 
count had  succeeded  in  imposing  on  Miss 
Garth;  and  would  in  any  event  still  declare, 
on  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes,  that  the  test 
by  tlie  marks  on  the  neck  had  utterly  failed. 
Miss  Vanstone,  the  elder,  whose  unexpected 
]>resence  at  Aldborough  might  have  dona 
A/onders  —  whose  voice  in  the  hall  at  North 
Shingles,  even  if  she  had  been  admitted  no 
farther,  might  have  reached  her  sister's  ears, 


and  led  to  instant  results  —  Miss  Vanstone 
the  elder  was  out  of  the  counti-}-,  and  was  not 
likely  to  return  for  a  month  at  least.  Look 
as  anxiously  as  I\Irs.  Lecount  might  alons  the 
course  which  she  had  hitherto  followed,  she 
failed  to  see  her  way  through  the  accumu- 
lated obstacles  which  now  barred  her  ad- 
vance. 

Other  women  in  this  position  might  have 
waited  until  circumstances  altered  and  helped 
them.  Mrs.  Lecount  boldly  retraced  her 
steps,  and  determined  to  find  her  way  to  her 
end  in  a  new  direction.  Resigning  for  the 
present  all  tiirther  attempt  to  prove  tliat  the 
false  IMiss  Bygrave  was  the  true  IMagdalen 
Vanstone,  she  resolved  to  narrow  the  range 
of  her  next  efforts,  to  leave  the  actual  ques- 
tion of  Magdalen's  identity  untouched,  and 
to  rest  satisfied  v.ith  convincing  her  master  of 
this  simpli;  fact,  that  the  young  lady  who  was 
charming  him  at  North  Shingles  and  the  dis- 
guised woman  who  had  terrified  him  in  Vaux- 
hall  Walk  were  one  and  the  same  person. 

The  means  of  effecting  this  new  object 
were,  to  all  appearance,  far  less  easy  of  at- 
tainment than  the  means  of  effecting  the  ob- 
ject which  Mrs.  L(  count  l;ad  just  resigned. 
Here  no  help  Avas  to  be  expected  i'rom  others 
—  no  ostensibly  benevolent  motives  could  be 
put  forward  as  a  blind  —  no  appeal  could  be 
made  to  Mr.  Pendril  or  to  ]\Iiss  Garth.  Here 
the  housekeeper's  only  chance  of  success  de- 
pended, in  the  first  place,  on  her  being  able 
to  effect  a  stolen  entrance  into  the  house; 
.'ind,  in  the  second  place,  on  her  ability  to 
discover  Avhcther  that  memorable  Alpaca 
dress  from  which  she  had  secretly  cut  the 
fragment  of  stuii"  ]ia])pened  to  form  part  of 
Miss  Bygrave's  wardrobe. 

Taking  the  difficulties  now  before  her  in 
their  order  as  they  occurred,  jNIrs.  Lecount 
first  resolved  to  devote  the  next  few  days  to 
w.itching  the  habits  of  the  inmates  of  North 
Shingles  from  early  in  the  morning  to  late  at 
night,  and  to  testing  the  capacity  of  the  one 
servant  in  the  house  to  resist,  the  temptation 
of  a  bribe.  Assuming  tliat  results  proved  suc- 
cessful, and  tba',  cither  by  money  or  by  strat- 
jigem,  she  gained  admission  to  North  Shingles 
(without  the  knowledge  of  IMr.  Bygrave  or 
his  niecej,  she,  turned  next  to  the  second  diffi- 
culty of  the  two  —  the  difficulty  of  obtaining 
access  to  Miss  Bygrave's  wardiobe. 

If  the  servant  ()roved  corruptible,  all  obsta- 
cles in  this  illrectlon  might  be  considered  as 
removed  beforehand.  But  if  the  servant 
proved  honest,  the  new  problem  Avas  no  easy 
one  to  solve. 

Long  and  careful  consideration  of  the  ques- 
tion led  the  liousekeeper  at  last  to  the  bold 
resolution  of  obtaining  an  interview  —  if  the 
servant  failed  her  —  Avith  Mrs.  Bygrave  her- 
self. AVhat  Avas  the  true  cause  of  this  lady's 
mysterious  seclusion  ?  AVas  she  a  person  of 
the  strictest  and  the  most  inconA'enient  integ-; 
rity  ?  or  a  person  Avho  could  not  be  depended 


NO  NAME. 


165 


on  to  preserve  n  scret?  or  a  person  wlio  wms 
as  arlful  nsMr.  Bygrave  Iiimself,  and  who  was 
kept,  in  re^oi've  to  fbi'wai'd  the  object  ot'  some 
new  deception  which  was  yet  to  come  ?  In 
the  fir.-t  two  cases  Mrs.  Lecount  could  Trust 
in  her  own  powers  of  dissimulation,  and  in 
the  results  which  they  might  acliieve.  In  the 
last  case  (if  no  other  end  was  gained)  it  might 
be  of  vital  importance  to  her  to  discover  an 
enemy  hidden  in  the  dark.  In  any  event, 
she  determined  to  run  the  risk.  Of  the  tliree 
chances  in  lier  favor  on  wliich  she  had  reck- 
oni.'d  at  t'le  or.tsetof  the  strngnle — the  chance 
of  entrapping  Magilalen  by  word  of  mouth, 
the  chance  of  enti'apping  her  by  the  lulp  of 
her  friends,  and  tiie  chance  of  entraj)ping  her 
bv  means  of  Mrs.  Bygrave  —  two  liad  been 
tried,  and  two  had  failed.  The  third  re- 
mained to  be  tested  yet,  and  the  lliird  might 
succeed- 

So  the  captain's  enemy  ])lotted  against  liim 
in  the  privacy  of  her  own  chamber,  while  the 
captain  watched  the  light  in  her  window  from 
the  beach  ontside. 

Before  bveakfast  the  next  morning  Captain 
Wragie  posted  the  Ibrged  letter  to  Zurich 
with  his  own  hand.  He  went  back  to  North 
Siiingles  with  his  mind  not  (juite  tlecided  on 
the  iourse  to  take  with  Mrs.  Lecount  during 
the  all-important  interval  of  the  next  ten 
days. 

Gre;itiy  to  In's  surprise,  his  doubts  on  this 
point  were  abruptly  decided,  on  his  return  to 
the  house.  l)y  ]\Iagdalen  herself 

He  found  her  waiting  tlir  him  in  the  room 
where  the  breakfast  was  laid.  She  was  walk- 
ing restlessly  to  ami  fro,  with  her  head  droop- 
ing on  her  bosom,  and  her  hair  hanging  disor- 
dered over  her  shoulders.  The  moment  she 
lookt'd  up.  on  his  entrance,  the  captain  felt  the 
fear  which  Mrs  Wragge  had  felt  before  him — 
the  fear  that  her  mind  would  be  struck  pros- 
trate acfain.  as  it  had  been  struck  once  already, 
when  Frank'.s  letter  reached  her  in  Vau.xhall 
Walk. 

"Is  he  coming  again  to-day?"  she  asked, 
pushing  away  from  her  the  chair  which  Captain 
Wragge  offered,  with  such  violence  that  she 
threw  it  on  the  floor. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  captain,  wisely  answering 
her  in  the  fewes-t  words.  "  He  is  coming  at 
two  o'clock." 

"  Take  me  away  !"  she  exclaimed,  tossing 
lier  hair  back  wildly  from  her  face.  "  Take 
me  away  befon;  he  comes.  I  can't  get  over 
the  horror  of  marrying  him  while  I  am  in  this 
hateful  place  ;  take  me  somewhere  %vhere  I  can 
forget  i(.  or  I  shall  go  mad!  (iive  me  two 
<lay8  rest — two  days  out  of  sight  of  that  horri- 
ble sea — two  days  out  of  prison  in  this  horrible 
hoa.se — two  days  anywhere  in  the  wide  world, 
away  from  Aldborough.  I  'II  come  back  with 
you!  I  'II  go  through  with  it  to  the  end  I 
Only  give  me  two  days  escape  from  that  man 
aud  everything  belonging  to  him!      Da  you 


hear,  you  villain  ?"  she  cried,  seizing  his  arm. 
and  shaking  it  in  a  frenzy  of  passion  —  "I 
have  been  tortured  enough  —  I  can  bear  it  no 
longer !" 

Tliere  was  but  one  way  of  quieting  her,  and 
the  eapt;nn  instantly  took  it. 

"  If  you  will  try  to  control  yourself,"  he 
said,  ''you  shall  leave  Aldborough  in  an  hour's 
time." 

She  dropped  his  arm,  and  leaned  back 
heavily  against  the  wall  beliind  Iwr. 

"I  '11  try,"  she  answered,  stiugglinrr  tor 
breath,  but  looking  at  him  less  wildly.  "  You 
shan't  coni]ilain  of  me,  it"  I  can  help  it."  She 
attempted  confusedly  to  take  her  handkerchief 
from  lier  ajiron-pocket,  and  failed  to  fin<l  it. 
The  ca))tain  took  it  out  for  her.  Her  eyes 
sottened,  and  she  drew  her  breath  more  freely 
as  she  received  the  handkerchief  irom  him. 
"  You  are  a  kinder  man  than  I  thought  vou 
were,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  so  pas- 
sionately to  you  just  now  —  I  am  very,  very 
sorry."  The  tears  stole  into  her  eyes,  and  she 
offered  him  her  hand  with  the  native  grace 
and  gentleness  of  happier  days.  ■'  Be  frien<l3 
witii  me  again,"  she  said,  pleadingly.  '•  1  'm 
only  a  girl.  Captain  AVragge  —  I'm  only  a 
giri'!" 

He  took  her  hand  in  silence,  ])atted  it  for  a 
moment,  and  then  opened  the  door  for  her  to 
go  back  to  her  own  room  again.  There  was 
genuine  regret  in  his  lace  as  he  showed  her 
that  trifling  attention.  He  was  a  vagabond 
and  a  cheat;  he  had  lived  a  mean,  shuffling, 
degraded  life;  but  he  was  human,  and  she  had 
lound  her  way  to  the  lost  sympathies  in  him 
which  not  even  the  self-profan.ition  of  a  swin- 
dler's existence  could  wholly  destroy.  **  Damn 
the  breakfast !"  he  said,  when  the  servant 
came  in  for  her  orders.  "  Go  to  the  inn  directly, 
and  say  1  want  a  carriage  and  pair  at  the  door 
in  an  hour's  time."  He  went  out  into  the 
passage,  still  chafing  under  a  sense  of  mental 
disturbance  which  was  new  to  him. and  shouted 
to  his  wile  more  fiercely  than  ever  :  *'  Pack 
up  what  we  want  for  a  week's  absence,  and  be 
I  ready  in  half  an  hour  !"  Having  issued  those 
directions,  he  returned  to  the  breakfast-room, 
and  looked  at  the  half-.spread  table  with  an 
impatient  wonder  at  his  disinclination  to  do 
'justice  to  his  own  meal.  "  She  has  rubbed  off 
I  the  edge  of  my  ap|)etite,"  he  saiil  to  himself, 
.  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  I  '11  try  a  cigar,  and  a 
[  turn  in  the  fresh  air." 

!       If  he  hncl  been  twenty  years  younger  thos« 

remedies  might  have  failed  him.     But  where 

•  is  the  man  to  be  found  who've  internal  policy 

j  succumbs  to  revolution  when  that  man  is  on 

I  the  wrong  side  of  fifty  ?     Exercise  and  change 

{  of  ])lace  gave  the  ca])t;iin  back  into  the  pos- 

I  session    of   himstdf.      He    recovered    the    lost 

I  sense  of  the  flavor  of  his  <igar,  and  recalled 

I  his  wandering  attention  to  the  (juestion  of  his 

appro.nhing    absence    from    Aldborough.      A 

few   minutes  consideration  satisfied  his  mind 

that  Magdaleu'i  outbreak  had  forced  him  to 


166 


NO  NAME. 


take  the  course  of  all  others  which,  on  a  fair 
review  of  existing;  emergencies,  it  was  now 
most  desirable  to  adopt. 

Captain  Wragge's  inquiries,  on  the  evening 
when  he  and  Magdalen  had  drunk  tea  at  Sea- 
View,  had  certainly  informed  him  that  the 
housekeeper's  brother  possessed  a  modest 
competence ;  that  his  sister  was  his  nearest 
living  relative ;  and  that  there  were  certain 
unscrupulous  cousins  on  the  spot  who  were 
anxious  to  usurp  the  place  in  his  will  which 
properly  belonged  to  Mr.-:.  Lecount,  Here 
were  strong  motives  to  take  the  housekeeper 
to  Zurich  when  the  false  report  of  iier  brother's 
relapse  reached  England.  But  if  any  idea  of 
Noel  Vanstone's  true  position  dawned  on  her 
in  the  meantime,  who  could  say  whether  siie 
might  not  at  the  eleventh  hour  prefer  assert- 
ing her  large  pecuniary  interest  in  her  master 
to  defending  her  small  pecuniary  interest  at 
her  lM'other"s  bedside  'i  While  that  question 
remained  undecided  the  plain  necessity  of 
checking  the  growth  of  Noel  Vanstone's  inti- 
macy with  the  family  at  North  Shingles  did 
not  admit  of  a  doubt,  and  of  all  means  of 
effecting  that  object  norie  could  be  less  open 
to  suspicion  than  the  tefftporary  removal  of  the 
household  from  their  residence  at  Aldborough. 
Thoroughly  satisfied  with  tlie  soundness  of  tliis 
conclusion,  Captain  Wragge  made  straight  for 
Sea-View  Coitage,  to  apologize  and  explain 
before  the  carriage  came  and  the  departure 
took  place. 

Mr.  NTo.d  Vanstone  was  easily  accessible  to 
visitors:  he  was  walking  in  the  garden  l)efore 
breakfast.  His  disappointment  and  vexation 
were  freely  expressed  when  he  heard  the 
news  which  his  friend  had  to  communicate. 
The  captain's  fluent  tongue,  however,  soon 
impressed  on  him  the  necessity  of  resignation 
to  present  circumstances.  The  bare  hint  that 
the  "  pious  fraud"  might  fail  after  all,  if  any- 
thing happened  in  the  ten  days  interval  to 
enlighten  Mrs.  Lecount,  had  an  instant  effect 
in  making  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  as  patient  and 
as  submissive  as  could  be  wished. 

"  I  won't  tell  you  wliere  we  are  going,  for 
two  good  reasons,"  said  Captain  Wragge, 
when  his  preliminary  explanations  were  com- 
pleted. "  In  the  first  place,  I  haven't  made 
up  my  mind  yet ;  and  in  the  second  place,  if 
you  don't  know  what  our  destination  is,  Mrs. 
Lecount  can't  worm  it  out  of  you.  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt  she  is  watching  us  at  this 
moment  from  behind  her  window -curtain. 
When  she  asks  what  I  wanted  with  you  this 
morning,  tell  her  I  came  to  say  good-by  for  a 
few  days — finding  my  niece  not  so  well  again, 
and  wishing  to  take  her  on  a  short  visit  to 
some  friends,  to  try  change  of  air.  If  you 
could  produce  an  impression  on  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  mind  (without  overdoing  it)  that  you 
are  a  little  disappointed  in  me,  and  that  you 
are  rather  inclined  to  doubt  my  heartiness  in 
cultivating  your  acquaintance,  you  will  great- 
ly help  our  present  object.     You  may  depend 


on  our  return  to  North  Shingles  in  four  or 
five  days  at  farthest.  If  anything  strikes  me 
in  tlie  meanwhile,  the  post  is  always  at  our 
servii.'e,  and  I  won't  fail  to  write  to  you." 

"  Won't  Miss  Bygrave  write  to  me  V"  in- 
quired Noel  Vanstone,  piteously.  "Did  she 
know  you  were  coming  here  ?  Did  she  send 
me  no  message  V" 

"  Unpardonable  on  my  part  to  have  forgot- 
ten it !"  cried  the  captain.  "  She  sent  you 
her  love." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  closed  his  eyes  in  silent 
ecstasy. 

AVheu  he  opened  them  again  Captain. 
Wragge  had  passed  through  the  garden-gate, 
and  was  on  his  way  back  to  North  Shingles. 
As  soon  as  his  own  door  had  closed  on  hira 
Mrs.  Lecount  descended  from  the  post  of 
observation  whicli  the  captain  had  rightly 
sus{)ected  her  of  occupying,  and  addressed 
the  inquiry  to  her  master  which  the  captain 
had  rightly  foreseen  would  follow  his  depart- 
ure. The  reply  she  received  produced  but 
one  impression  on  her  mind.  She  at  once 
set  it  down  as  a  falsehood,  and  returned  to 
her  own  window,  to  keep  watch  over  North 
Shingles  more  vigilantly  than  ever. 

To  her  utter  astonishment,  after  the  lapse 
of  less  than  half  an  hour,  she  saw  an  empty 
carriage  draw  up  at  Mr.  Bygrave's  door. 
Luggage  v.'as  bi'ought  out  and  packed  on  the 
vehicle.  IMiss  Bygrave  appeared,  and  took 
her  seat  in  it.  She  was  followed  into  the 
carriage  by  a  lady  of  great  size  and  stature, 
whom  the  housekeeper  conjectured  to  be  Mrs. 
Bygrave.  The  servant  came  next,  and  stood 
waiting  on  the  path.  The  last  person  to  ap- 
pear was  Mr.  Bygrave.  He  locked  the  house 
door,  and  took  the  key  away  with  him  to  a 
cottage  near  at  hand,  which  was  the  residence 
of  the  landlord  of  North  Shingles.  On  his 
return  he  nodded  to  the  servant — who  walked 
away  by  herself  toward  the  humbler  quarter 
of  the  little  town  —  and  joined  the  ladie?  in 
the  carriage.  The  coachman  mounted  the 
box,  and  the  vehicle  disappeared. 

Mrs.  Lecount  laid  down  the  opera -glass, 
through  which  she  had  been  closely  investi- 
gating these  proceedings,  with  a  feeling  of 
helpless  perplexity  which  she  was  almost 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  to  herself.  The 
secret  of  Mr.  Bygrave's  object  in  suddenly 
emptying  his  house  at  Aldborough  of  every 
living  creature  in  it  was  an  impenetrable 
mystery  to  her. 

Submitting  herself  to  circumstances  with  a 
ready  resignation  which  Captain  Wragge  had 
not  shown,  on  his  side,  in  a  similar  situation, 
Mrs.  Lecount  wasted  neither  time  nor  tem- 
per in  unprofitable  guesswork.  She  left  the 
mystery  to  thicken  or  to  clear  as  the  future 
might  decide,  and  looked  exclusively  at  the 
uses  to  which  she  might  put  the  morning's 
event  in  her  own  interests.  Whatever  might 
have  become  of  the  family  at  North  Shingles, 
the  servant  was  left  behind,  and  the  servant 


NO  NAME. 


167 


was  exactly  the  person  whose  assistance  might 
now  be  of  vital  iniportam'e  to  the  housekeep- 
ers  projects.  Mrs.  Lecount  put  on  her  bon- 
net, inspected  the  collection  of  loose  silver  in 
her  purse,  and  set  forth  on  the  spot  to  make 
the  servant's  acquaintance. 

She  went  first  to  the  cottage,  at  which  Mr. 
Bygrave  had  left  tlie  key  of  North  Sliingles, 
to  discover  the  servant's  present  address  from 
the  landlord.  So  far  as  this  object  mms  con- 
cerned her  errand  proved  successful.  The, 
landlord  knew  tliat  the  girl  had  been  allowed 
to  go  home  for  a  few  days  to  her  friends,  and 
knew  in  what  part  of  Aldborough  her  friends 
lived.  But  here  his  sources  of  information 
suddenly  dried  up.  He  knew  nothing  of  the 
destination  to  which  Mr.  Bygrave  and  his 
family  had  betaken  themselvi's,  and  he  was 
pertectiv  ignorant  of  the  number  of  days  over 
Avhich  their  ab.senee  might  be  expected  to  ex- 
tend. All  he  could  say  was  that  he  had  not 
received  a  notice  to  quit  from  his  tenant,  and 
that  he  had  been  re(juested  to  kcej)  the  key  of 
the  house  in  his  possession  until  Mr.  Bygrave 
returned  to  claim  it  in  his  own  person. 

Biiffled,  but  not  discouraued,  ]\Irs.  Lecount 
turned  her  steps  next  toward  the  back  street 
of  Aldborough,  and  astonished  the  servant's 
relatives  by  conferring  on  them  the  honor  of  a 
morning  call. 

Easily  imposed  on  at  starting  by  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  pretense  of  calling  to  engage  her 
under  the  impression  that  she  had  left  Mr. 
Bygrave's  service,  the  servant  did  her  best  to 
answer  the  questions  put  to  her.  But  she 
knew  as  little  as  the  landlord  of  her  master's 
plans.  All  she  could  say  about  them  was  that 
she  had  not  been  dismissed,  and  that  she  was 
to  await  the  receipt  of  a  note  recalling  her 
when  necessary  to  her  situation  at  North 
Shingles.  Not  having  expected  to  find  her 
better  informed  on  this  part  of  the  subject, 
Mrs.  Lecount  smoothly  .shifted  her  ground, 
and  led  the  woman  into  talking  generally  of 
the  advantages  and  defects  of  her  situation  in 
^Ir.  Bygrave's  family. 

Profiting  by  the  knowledge  gained  in  this 
indirect  manner  of  the   little   secrets  of  the 
household,  Mrs.  Lecount  made  two  discover- 
ies.      She  found  out,  in  the  first  phx'e,  that 
the  servant  (having  enough  to  do  in  attending 
to  tiie  coarser  part  of  the  domestic  work)  was 
in  no  position  to  disclose  the  secrets  of  Miss 
Bygrave's  wardrobe,  which  were  known  onlv 
to  the  young  lady  her.'ielf  and  to  her  aunt.  In 
the  second  place,  the  housekeepi-r  ascertained 
that  the  true  reason  of  Mrs.  Bygrave's  rio'id 
seclu.sion  was  to  be  found  in  the  i-imple  fact 
that  she  was  little  better  than  an  idiot,  and  I 
that   her   husband  was  probably   ashamed  of  I 
allowing  her  to  be  seen  in  public.     These  ap- 
parently trivial  discovt-ries  enlightened  Mrs.  I 
Lecount  on  a  ^ery  important  point  which  had 
been  previously  involved  in  <ioubt.     She  was  ' 
now  satisfied  that  the  likelie.-t  wav  to  obtain- 
ing  a   private    investigation    of    Magdalen's 


wardrobe  lay  through  deluding  the  imbecile 
lady,  and  not  through  bribing  the  ignorant 
servant. 

Having  reached  that  conclusion,  pregnant 
with  coming  assaults  on  the  weakly-tbrtified 
di.^cretion  of  poor  Mrs.  Wragge.  the  house- 
keeper cautiously  abstained  from  exhibiting 
herself  any  longer  under  an  inrpiisitive  as- 
})ect.  She  changed  the  conversation  to  local 
tonics,  -waited  until  she  was  sure  of  leavinjr  an 
excellent  impression  "behind  her,  and  then 
took  her  leave. 

Three  days  passed,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  and 
her  master  —  each  with  their  widely-different 
ends  in  view  —  watched  with  e(jual  anxiety 
for  the  first  signs  of  returning  life  in  tlie 
direr'tion  of  North  Shingles.  Li  that  interval 
no  letter  either  from  the  uncle  or  the  niece 
avrivt'd  for  Mr.  Xoel  Vanstone.  His  sincere 
feeling  of  irritation  under  this  negh'ctful 
treatment  greatly  assisted  the  effect  ol'  those 
feigned  doubts  on  the  subject  of  his  absent 
friends  which  the  captain  had  recommended 
him  to  ex])iess  in  the  housekeeper's  ]irescnce. 
He  confessed  Ids  apprehensions  of  having 
been  mistaken,  not  in  !Mr.  Bygrave  only,  but 
even  in  his  niece  as  avcII,  with  such  a  genuine 
air  of  annoyance  that  he  actually  contributed 
a  new  element  of  confusion  to  the  existingper- 
plexities  of  Mrs.  Lecoimt. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  met  the  postman  in  the  garden, 
and,  to  his  great  relief,  discovered  among  the 
letters  delivered  to  him  a  note  from  Mr.  By- 
grave. 

Tlie  date  of  the  note  was  "  Woodbridge," 
and  it  contained  a  few  lines  only.  Mr.  By- 
grave  mentioned  that  his  niece  was  belter,  ami 
that  she  sent  her  love  as  before.  He  propo.sed 
returning  to  Aldborough  on  tlie  next  day, 
when  he  would  have  some  new  considerations 
of  a  strictly  private  nature  to  present  to  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  mind.  In  the  meantime  he 
would  beg  Mr.  Vanstone  not  to  call  at  North 
Shingles  until  he  received  a  special  invitation 
to  do  so,  which  invitation  should  certainly  be 
given  on  the  day  when  the  family  returned. 
The  motive  of  this  apparently  strange  request 
should  be  explained  to  Mr.  Vanstone's  perfect 
satisfaction  when  he  was  once  niore  united  to 
his  friends.  Until  that  period  arrived  the 
strictest  caution  was  enjoined  on  him  in  all  his 
communications  with  ]\Irs.  Lecount;  and  the 
Instant  destruction  of  ]\Ir.  Bygrave's  letter, 
after  due  jierusal  of  it,  was  (if  the  classical 
phrase  might  be  pardoned)  a  i^ine  qua  non. 

The  fifth  day  came.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
(after  submitting  himself  to  the  sine  qua  non, 
and  destroying  the  letter)  waited  anxiously 
for  restdts:  while  Mrs.  Lecount,  on  her  side, 
watched  patiently  for  events.  Toward  three 
o'cloik  in  the  afternoon  the  carriage  appeared 
again  at  the  jrate  of  North  Shingles.  Mr.  By- 
giave  j_rni  otit.  and  tripped  away  briskly  to  the 
landlord's  (  oltajre  for  the  kcv.     He  returned 


16S 


NO  JS-^AME. 


with  the  ser\ant  at  his  heels.  Miss  By^rave 
lel't  the  carriajfc;  har  giant  relative  followed 
her  example  ;  the  housL-door  was  opened  ;  the 
trunks  v\^ere  taken  oH";  the  ean'iage  disa[»pear- 
cd ;  and  the  Bygraves  were  at  home  agaii\ ! 

Four  o'clock  struck,  five  o'clock,  six  o'clock, 
and  nothing  happened.  In  half  an  hour  more 
Mr.  Bygrave — spruce,  speckless,  and  respect- 
able as  ever  —  ajipeared  on  the  Parade,  saun- 
tering composedly  in  the  direction  of  Sea- 
View. 

Instead  of  at  once  entering  the  house,  he 
passed  it,  stopped,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
recollection,  and,  retracing  his  steps,  asked 
i'or  Mr.  Vanstone  at  the  door.  Mr.  Vanstone 
came  out  ho.-;pitabIy  into  the  passage.  Pitching 
iiis  voice  to  a  tone  which  could  easily  be  heard 
by  any  listening  individual  through  any  open 
door  in  the  bedroom  regions,  Mr.  Bygreive 
announced  the  object  of  his  visit,  on  the  door- 
mat, in  the  fewest  possible  words.  He  had 
been  staying  with  a  distant  relative.  The  dis- 
tant relative  possessed  two  picture  s — Gems  by 
the  Old  Masters — which  he  was  willing  to  dis- 
pose of,  and  which  he  had  intrusted  for  that 
purpose  to  Mi:  Bygrave's  care.  If  Mr.  Isoel 
V^anstone,  as  an  amateur  in  such  matters, 
wished  to  see  the  Gems,  they  would  be  visible 
in  half  an  hour's  time,  when  Mr.  Bygrave 
would  have  returned  to  North  Shingles. 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  incompre- 
hensible announcement,  the  arch-conspirator 
laid  his  signilicant  forefinger  along  the  side 
of  his  short  lloman  nose — said,  "Fine  M'eather, 
isn't  it?  Good  afternoon!"  —  and  sauntered 
out  inscrutablv  to  continue  his  walk  on  the 
Parade. 

On  the  expiration  of  the  half-liour  j\Ir.  Noel 
Vanstone  j/resented  himself  at  North  Shingles, 
Avith  the  ardor  of  a  lovei'  burning  inextinguish- 
ably in  his  bosom  through  the  superincumbent 
mental  fog  of  a  thoroughly  bewildered  man. 
To  liis  inexpressible  happiness  he  found  Mp.g- 
dalen  alone  in  the  parlor.  Never  yet  had  she 
looked  so  beautiful  in  his  eyes.  The  rest  and 
relied'  of  her  four  (jajs  absence  from  Aldbor- 
ough  had  not  failed  to  produce  their  results: 
she  had  more  tlian  recovered  her  composure. 
Vibrating  perpetually  from  one  violent  ex- 
treme to  another,  she  had  now  passed  from  the 
passionate  despair  of  five  days  since  to  a  fiever- 
ish  exaltation  of  spirits  which  defied  all  re- 
morse and  confronted  all  consequences.  Her 
eyes  sparkled;  her  cheeks  were  bright  with 
color;  she  talked  incessantly,  with  a  forlorn 
mockery  of  the  girlish  gayety  of  past  days  — 
she  laughed  with  a  deplorable  persistency  in 
laughing — she  imitated  Mrs.  Lecount's  smooth 
voice  ami  Mrs.  Lecount's  insinuating  graces  of 
manner,  with  an  overcharged  resemblance  to 
the  original,  wiiich  was  but  the  coarse  i-eflection 
of  the  dclicat(dy-accurate  mimicry  of  ibrhier 
times.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  who  had  never  yet 
seen  her  as  he  saw  hm*  now,  was  enchanted  ; 
liis  v.eak  head  whirled  with  an  intoxication  of 
enjoyment ;  his  wizen  eheek.s  flushed  as  if  they 


j  had  caught  the  infection  from  hers.    The  half- 

'  hour  during  which    he    was    alone  with   her 

I  passed  like  five  minu*'es  to  him.     When  that 

!  time  had  elapsed,  and  when  she  suddenly  left 

!  liiin — to  obey  a  previously-arranged  sunmions 

I  to  her  aunt's  presence  —  miser  as  he  was  —  he 

would  have  paid  at  that  moment  five  golden 

■  sovereigns  out  of  his  pocket  for  five  golden 

'  minutes  more  passed  in  her  society. 

I      The  door  had  hardly  closed  on  Magdalen 

j  before  it  opened  again  and  the  captain  walked 

I  in.     He   entered  on  the  explanations  which 

I  his  visitor  naturally  expected  from  him.  with 

the  unceremonious  abruptness  of  a  man  hard 

pressed  for  time,  and  determined  to  make  the 

most  of  every  moment  at  his  disposal. 

'*  Since  we  last  saw  each  other,"  he  began, 
"I  have  been  reckoning  up  the  chances  for 
and  against  us  as  we  stand  at  present.  The 
result  on  my  own  mind  is  this :  If  you  are  still 
-at  Aldborough  when  that  letter  from  Zurich 
reaches  ]Mrs.  Lecount,  all  the  pains  we  have 
taken  will  have  been  pains  thrown  away.  If 
your  housekeeper  had  fifty  broths  rs  all  dying 
together,  she  would  throw  the  whole  fifty  over 
sooner  than  leave  you  alon(>  at  St;a-View  while 
we  are  your  neighbors  at  North  Shingles." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanslone's  flushed  cheeks  turned 
pale  with  dismay.  His  own  knowledge  of 
Mi's.  Lecount  told  him  that  this  view  of  the 
case  was  the  right  one. 

"  If  ice  go  away  again,"  proceeded  the  cap- 
tain, "nothing  will  be  gained;  for  nothing 
would  persuade  your  housekeeper,  in  that 
case,  that  we  have  not  left  you  the  means 
of  following  us.  You  must  lea\e  Aldborough 
this  time ;  and,  what  is  more,  you  must  go 
without  leaving  a  siPigle  visible  trace  behind 
you  ibr  us  to  follow.  If  we  accomplish  this 
object  in  the  course  of  the  next  five  days, 
INIrs.  Lecount  Avill  take  the  journey  to  Zu- 
rich. If  we  fail,  siie  will  be  a  fixture  at  Sea- 
View  to  a  dead  certaint}'.  Don't  ask  ques- 
tions !  I  have  got  your  instructions  ready  for 
you,  and  I  want  your  closest  attention  to 
them.  Your  marria;re  with  my  niece  depends 
on  your  not  forgetting  a  word  of  what  I  am 
now  going  to  tell  you.  One  question  first. 
Have  you  followed  my  advice  V  Have  you 
told  Mrs.  Lecount  you  are  beginning  to  think 
yourself  mistaken  in  meV" 

"  I  did  worse  than  that,"  replied  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone,  penitently.  '•  I  committed  an  out- 
rage on  my  own  feelings.  I  disgraced  myself 
by  saying  that  I  doubted  Miss  Bygrave !" 

"  Go  on  disgracing  yourself,  my  dear  Sir ! 
Doubt  us  both  with  all  your  might,  and  I  '11 
I  help  you.  One  question  more.  Did  I  speak 
I  lou(i  enough  this  afternoon  V  Did  Mrs.  Le- 
count hear  me  ?" 
I  "Yes.  Lecount  opened  her  door :  Lecount 
i  heard  you.  AVhat  made  you  give  nu;  that 
j  message  ?  I  see  no  pictures  here.  Is  this 
j  another  pious  fraud,  Mr.  Bygrave  ?" 
I  "  Admirably  guessed,  Mr.  Vanstone  I  You 
j  will  see  the  oVjject  of  my  imaginary  picture- 


NO  NAME. 


169 


dealins  in  c'lo  vrsy  next  words  which  I  am 
now  iibaut  lo  addicss  to  you.  When  you  get 
back  to  Sca-Vicw  this  is  wliat  you  are  to  say 
U)  Mrs.  Lc.count.  Tell  her  tliat  my  relative's 
works  of  Art  arc  two  worthless  pi<;tiires  — 
copies  from  liic  Old  Masters,  wliich  I  have 
tried  to  sell  von,  as  originals,  at  an  exorbitant 
price.  Say  Von  suspect  me  of  being  little 
better  than  a  plausible  impostor,  and  ])ity 
my  unfortunate  niece  for  being  associated  witii 
sadi  a  ra.scal  as  I  am.  There  is  your  text 
to  speak  from.  Say  in  many  words  what  I 
have  just  said  in  few.  You  can  do  that,  can't 
you  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  can  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone.  "But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing  —  Le- 
count  won't  believe  me." 

"  Wait  a  little,  Mr.  Vunstone  ;  I  have,  not 
done  with  my  instructions  yet.  You  under- 
stand what  I  have  just  told  you  ?  Very  good. 
We  may  get  on  from  to-day  to  to-morrow. 
Go  out  to-morrow  with  Mrs.  Leoount  at  your 
usual  time.  1  will  meet  you  on  the  Parade 
and  bow  to  you.  Instead  of  returning'  my 
bow,  look  the  other  way  —  in  plain  English, 
cut  me  !    That  is  easy  enough  to  do.  Isn't  it?" 

"  She  won't  believe  rac,  Mr.  Bygrave— she 
won't  bc!ie^e  me  !" 

"  Wait  a  little  again,  ISIr.  Vanstone.  There 
are  more  instructions  to  come.  Y'^ou  liave  got 
your  directions  for  to-day,  and  you  have  got 
your  directions  for  to-morrow.  Now  for  the 
day  after.  The  day  after  is  the  seventh  day 
since  we  sent  the  letter  to  Zurich.  On  the 
seventh  day  decline  to  go  out  walking  as 
before,  from  dread  of  the  annoyance  of  meet- 
ing me  again.  Grumble  about  the  smallness 
of  the  place  ;  complain  of  your  health  ;  wish 
you  had  never  come  to  Aldboroiigh,  and  never 
made  acquaintance  with  the  Bygraves ;  and 
when  you  have  well  worried  Mrs.  Lecount 
with  your  discontent,  ask  her  on  a  sudden 
if  she  can't  suggest  a  change  for  the  better. 
If  J  on  put  that  question  to  her  naturally, 
do  yon  think  she  can  be  depended  on  to 
answer  it ';'" 

"  She  won't  want  to  be  questioned  at  all," 
replied  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  irritably.  "I 
have  only  got  to  say  I  am  tired  of  Aid- 
borough,  and  if  she  believes  me  —  which  she 
won't ;  I  'm  (piite  positive,  Mr.  Bygrave,  she 
won't!  —  she  will  liave  her  suggestion  ready 
before  I  can  ask  for  it." 

"  Ay,  ay  !"  said  the  captain,  eagerly.  "  There 
is  some  place,  then,  that  Mrs.  Lecount  wants 
to  go  to  this  autumn  V" 

"  She  wants  to  go  there  (hang  her  !)  every 
autumn." 

"  To  go  where  ?" 

"To  Admiral  Bartram's  —  jou  don't  know 
him,  do  you? — at  St.  Crux-in-tho-^larsh." 

"Don't  lose  your  patience,  Mr.  Vanstone! 
What  yon  .ire  now  tilling  me  is  of  the  most 
vital  importance  to  the  object  we  hare  in 
view.     Who  is  Admiral  Bartram?" 

"  An  old  friend  of  my  father's.  My  father 
-22     ' 


laid  him  under  obligations  —  my  father  lent 
him  money  when  they  were  both  young  men. 
I  am  like  one  of  the  family  at  St!  Crux ;  my 
room  is  always  kept  ready  for  me.  Not  that 
there  's  any  family  at  the  admiral's  except  his 
nephew,  George  Bartram.  George  is  my 
cousin.  I  'm  as  intimate  with  (Jeorge  as  my 
father  was  with  tlie  admiral ;  and  I  've  been 
sharper  than  my  father,  for  I  haven't  lent  my 
friend  any  money.  Lecount  always  makes  a 
show  of  liking  George  —  I  believe,  to  annoy 
me.  She  likes  the  admiral  too:  he  flatters 
her  vanity.  lie  always  invites  her  to  come 
with  me  to  St.  Crux.  He  lets  her  have  one  of 
the  best  bedrooms,  and  treats  her  as  if  she  was 
a  lady.  She  's  as  j)roud  as  Lucifer — she  likes 
being  treated  like  a  lady — and  she  pesters  me 
every  autumn  to  go  to  St.  Crux.  What's  the 
matter  ?  What  are  you  taking  out  your 
pocket-book  for  ?" 

"  I  want  the  admiral's  address,  Mr.  Van- 
stone—  for  a  purpose  which  I  will  explain 
immediately." 

With  those  words  Captain  Wragge  opened 
his  pocket-book  and  wrote  down  the  address 
from  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  dictation,  as  fol- 
lows: "Admiral  Bartram,  St.  Ci'ux -in- the - 
Marsh,  near  Ossory,  Esse.x." 

"  Good !"  cried  the  captain,  closing  his 
pocket-book  again.  "  The  only  dilliculty  that 
stood  in  our  way  is  now  cleared  out  of  it. 
Patience,  Mr.  Vanstone  —  patience  !  Let  us 
take  up  my  instructions  again  at  the  point 
where  we  droj)ped  them.  Give  me  five 
minutes  more  attention,  and  you  will  see 
your  way  to  your  marriage  as  p^inly  as  I 
see  it.  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  you 
declare  you  are  tired  of  Aldboroug.'h,  and 
Mrs.  Lecount  sugaests  St.  Crux.  You  don't 
say  yes  or  no  on  the  spot ;  you  take  the  next 
day  to  consider  it,  and  you  make  up  your 
mind  the  last  thing  at  night  to  go  to  St.  Crux 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  Are  you  in 
the  habit  of  superintending  your  own  pack- 
ing up  ?  or  do  you  usually  shift  all  the  trouble 
of  it  on  Mrs.  Lccount's  shoulders?" 

"  Lecount  has  all  the  trouble,  of  course ; 
Lecount  is  paid  lor  it !  But  I  don't  really  go, 
do  I  ?" 

"  You  go  as  fast  as  horses  can  take  you 
to  the  railway,  without  having  held  any  pre- 
vious communication  with  this  house  either 
personally  or  by  letter.  You  leave  Mrs.  Le- 
count behind  to  pack  up  your  curiosities,  to 
settle  with  the  trade-siuople,  and  to  follow 
you  to  St.  Crux  the  next  morning.  The  next 
morning  is  the  tenth  morning.  On  the  tenth 
morning  she  receives  the  letter  from  Zurich  ; 
and  if  you  only  carry  out  my  instructions, 
Mr.  N'anstone,  as  sure  as  you  sit  there  to 
Zurich  slie  goes !" 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  color  began  to  rise 
again  as  the  captain's  stratagem  dawned  on 
him  at  last  in  its  true  light. 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  at  St.  Crux  V"  he 
inquired. 


170 


NO  NAME. 


"  "Wait  there  till  I  call  for  you,"  replied  the 
captain.  "  As  soon  as  Mrs.  Lecouut's  back  is 
turned  I  will  go  to  the  church  here  and  give 
the  necessary  notice  of  the  marriage.  The 
same  day  or  the  next  I  will  travel  to  the 
address  written  down  in  my  poi'ket-book,  pick 
you  up  at  the  admiral's,  and  take  you  on  to 
London  with  me  to  get  the  license.  With  that 
document  in  our  possession  we  shall  be  on  our 
way  back  to  Aklborough  while  Mrs.  Lecouut 
18  on  her  way  out  to  Zurich,  and  before  .she 
starts  on  her  return  journey  you  and  my 
niece  will  be  man  and  wife  !  There  are  your 
future  prospects  for  you.  What  do  you  think 
of  them  V" 

"  What  a  head  you  have  got ! "  cried  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone,  in  a  sudden  outburst  of  en- 
thusiasm. "  You  're  the  most  extraordinary 
man  I  ever  met  with.  One  would  tliink  you 
had  done  nothing  all  your  life  but  take  people 
in." 

Captain  Wragge  received  that  unconscious 
tribute  to  his  native  genius  with  the  compla- 
cency of  a  man  who  felt  that  he  thoroughly 
deserved  it. 

"  I  have  told  you  already,  my  dear  Sir,"  be 
said  modestly,  "  that  1  never  do  things  by 
halves.  Pardon  me  for  reminding  you  that 
we  have  no  time  for  exchanging  mutual  civil- 
ities. Are  you  quite  sure  about  your  instruc- 
tions ?  I  dare  not  write  them  down  for  fear 
of  accidents.  Try  the  systs-m  of  artificial 
memory  — count  your  inslructions  off,  after 
me,  on  your  thumb  and  your  four  fingers.  To- 
day you  tell  Mrs.  Lecount  I  have  tried  to  take 
you  in  with  my  relative's  works  of  Art.  To- 
morrow you  cut  me  on  the  Parade.  The  day 
after  you  refuse  to  go  out,  you  get  tired  of 
Aldborougli,  and  you  allow  Mrs.  Lecount  to 
make  her  suggestion.  The  next  day  you  ac- 
cept the  suggestion.  And  the  next  day  to 
that  you  go  to  St.  Crux.  Once  more,  my 
dear  Sir  !  Thumb  —  works  of  Art.  Fore- 
finger—  cut  me  on  the  Parade.  Middle  fin- 
ger—  tired  of  Aldborough.  Third  finger  — 
take  Lecount's  advice.  Little  finger  —  off  to 
St.  Crux.  Nothing  can  be  clearer  —  nothing 
<'an  be  easier  to  do.  Is  there  anything  you 
don't  understand  ?  Anything  that  I  can  ex- 
plain over  again  before  you  go  ?  " 

"  Only  one  thing,'  said  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone. 
"  Is  it  settled  that  I  am  not  to  come  here  again 
before  I  go  to  St.  Crux  ?  " 

"  Most  decidedly  !  "  answered  the  captain. 
"  The  whole  success  of  the  enterprise  depends 
on  your  keeping  away.  Mrs.  Lecount  will  try 
the  credibility  of  everything  you  say  to  her 
by  one  test  —  the  test  of  your  communicating, 
or  not,  with  this  house.  She  will  watch  you 
night  and  day !  Don't  call  here,  don't  send 
messages,  don't  write  letters  —  don't  even  go 
out  by  yourself  Let  her  see  you  start  for  St. 
Crux  on  her  suggestion,  with  the  absolute  cer- 
tainty in  her  own  mind  that  you  have  followed 
her  advice,  without  communicating  it  in  any 
form  whaiiever   to  me  or  to  my   niece.     Do 


that,  and  she  must  believe  you,  on  the  best 
of  all  evidence  for  our  Interests,  and  the  worst 
for  hers  —  the  evidence  of  her  own  senses." 

With  those  last  words  of  caution  he  shook 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  warmly  by  the  hand,  and 
sent  him  home  on  the  spot. 

Captain  Wragge  retired  to  rest  that  night 
in  high  spirits.  He  jocosely  apostrophized  the 
extinguisher  in  his  candlestick  as  he  raised  it 
to  put  the  light  out.  "  If  I  could  only  drop 
you  on  Mrs.  Lecount,"  said  the  captain,  "  I 
might  bid  good-by  to  the  last  anxiety  left  on 
this  side  of  the  wedding-day  !  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

On  returning  to  Sea- View  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone executed  the  instructions  which  pre- 
scribed his  line  of  conduct  for  the  first  of  the 
five  days  with  unimpeachable  accuracy.  >  A 
faint  smile  of  contempt  hovered  about  Mrs. 
Lecount's  lips  while  the  story  of  Mr.  By- 
grave's  attempt  to  pass  off  his  spurious  pic- 
tures as  originals  was  in  progress,  but  she  did 
not  trouble  herself  to  utter  a  single  word  of 
remark  when  it  had  come  to  an  end.  "  Just 
what  I  said !  "  thought  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone, 
cunningly  watching  her  face —  "  she  doesn't 
believe  a  word  of  it !  " 

The  next  day  the  meetlns;  occurred  on  the 
Parade.  Mr.  Bygrave  took^  off  his  hat,  and 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  looked  the  other  way. 
The  captain's  start  of  surprise  and  scowl  of 
indignation  were  executed  to  perfection,  but 
they  plainly  failed  to  impose  on  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"  I  am  afraid,  Sir,  you  have  offended  Mr. 
Bygrave  to-day,"  she  ironically  remarked. 
"  Happily  for  you,  he  is  an  excellent  Chris- 
tian, and  I  venture  to  predict  that  he  will 
forgive  you  to-morrow," 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  wisely  refrained  from 
commlttlnnr  himself  to  an  answer.  Once  more 
he  privately  applauded  his  own  penetration  ; 
once  more  he  triumphed  over  his  ingenious 
friend. 

Thus  far  the  captain's  instructions  had  been 
too  clear  and  simple  to  be  mistaken  by  any 
one.  But  they  advanced  in  complication  with 
the  advance  of  time ;  and  on  the  third  day 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  fell  confusedly  into  the 
commission  of  a  slight  error.  After  express- 
ing the  necessary  weariness  of  Aldborough, 
and  the  consequent  anxiety  for  change  of 
scene,  he  was  met  (as  he  had  anticipated)  by 
an  immediate  suggestion  from  the  housekeep- 
er, recommending  a  visit  to  St.  Crux.  In 
giving  his  answer  to  the  advice  thus  tendered 
he  made  his  first  mistake.  Instead  of  defer- 
ring his  decision  until  the  next  day,  he  ac- 
cepted Mrs.  Lecount's  suggestion  on  the  day 
when  it  was  offered  to  him. 

The  consequences  of  this  error  were  of  no 
great  importance.     The  housekeeper  merely 


NO  NAME. 


171 


set  herself  to  watc-h  ber  master  one  day  ear- 
lier than  had  been  calculated  on  —  a  result 
which  had  already  been  provided  for  by  the 
wise  precautionary  measure  of  forbidding  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  all  communication  with  North 
Shingles.  Doubting,  as  Captain  Wragge  ha<l 
foreseen,  the  sincerity  of  her  master's  desire 
to  break  off  his  connection  with  the  Bygraves 
by  going  to  St.  Cru.x,  Mj-s.  Lecount  tested  the 
trutli  or  falsehood  of  the  impression  produced 
on  her  own  mind  by  vigilantly  watching  for 
signs  of  secret  communication  ou  one  side  or 
on  the  other.  The  close  attention  Avitli  which 
she  had  hitherto  observed  the  outgoings  and 
incomings  at  North  Shinglcfs  was  now  entirely 
transferred  to  her  master.  For  the  rest  of 
that  third  day  she  never  let  him  out  of  her 
sight;  she  never  allowed  any  third  person  who 
came  to  the  house,  on  any  pretense  whatever, 
a  minute's  chance  of  private  communication 
with  him.  At  intervals  through  the  uiglit 
she  stole  to  the  door  of  his  I'oom  to  listen  and 
assure  herself  that  he  was  in  bed ;  and  before 
sunrise  the  next  morning  tlie  coast-guardsman 
going  his  rounds  was  surprised  to  see  a  lady, 
who  Iiad  risen  as  carb*  as  himself  engaged 
over  her  work  at  one  of  the  upper  windows  of 
Sea- View. 

On  the  fourth  morning  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
came  down  to  breakfast  conscious  of  the  mis- 
take that  he  had  committed  on  the  previous 
day.  The  obviolis  course  to  take,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  gaining  time,  was  to  declare  that  his 
mind  was  still  undecided.  He  made  the  as- 
sertion boldly  when  the  Itousekeeper  asked 
him  if  lie  meant  to  move  that  day.  Again 
Jlrs.  Lecount  offered  no  remark,  and  again 
the  signs  and  tokens  of  incredulity  showed 
themselves  in  her  fiice.  Vacillation  of  pur- 
pose was  not  at  all  unusual  in  her  experience 
of  her  master.  But  on  this  occasion  she  be- 
lieved that  his  caprice  of  conduct  was  a.ssumed 
for  the  purpose  of  gaining  time  to  communi- 
cate with  North  Shingles,  and  she  accordingly 
set  her  watch  on  him  once  more  with  doubled 
and  trebled  vigilance. 

No  letters  came  that  morning.  Toward 
noon  the  weather  changed  for  the  worse,  and 
all  idea  of  walking  out  as  usual  was  aban- 
doned. Hour  after  hour,  while  'her  master 
pat  in  one  of  the  parlors,  Mrs.  Lecount  kept 
watch  in  the  other  —  with  the  door  into  the 
paj^sage  open,  and  with  a  full  view  of  North 
Shingh  s  through  the  convenient  side  window 
at  wiiich  she  had  established  herself  Not  a 
sign  tiiat  was  suspicious  appeared;  not  a  sotind 
that  was  suspicious  caught  her  ear.  As  the 
evening  closed  in  her  master's  hesitation  came 
to  an  end.  lie  was  disgusted  with  t.lie  weath- 
er ;  he  hated  the  place ;  he  foresaw  the  an- 
noyance of  more  meetifigs  with  Mr.  Bygrave, 
and  he  was  determined  to  go  to  St.  Crux  the 
first  thing  the  next  morning.  Lecount  could 
8tay  behind  to  pack  up  the  furiosities  and 
settle  with  the  tradespeople,  and  could  follow 
him  to  the  admiral's  on  the  next  day.     The 


housekeeper  was  a  little  staggered  by  the  tone 
and  manner  in  which  he  gave  these  orders. 
He  had,  to  her  own  certain  knowledge,  effect- 
ed no  communication  of  any  sort  with  North 
Shingles,  and  yet  he  seemed  determined  to 
leave  Aldborough  at  the  earliest  possible  op- 
portunity. For  the  first  time  she  hesitated 
in  her  adherence  to  her  own  conclusions. 
She  remembered  that  Iier  master  had  com- 
plained of  the  Bygraves  before  they  returned 
to  Aldborough,  and  she  was  conscious  that  her 
own  incredulity  had  once  already  misled  her 
when  the  appearance  of  the  travelling-car- 
riage  at  the  door  had  proved  even  Mr.  By- 
grave  himself  to  be  as  good  as  his  word. 

Still  Mrs.  Lecount  determined  to  act  with 
unrelenting  caution  to  the  last.  Tliat  night, 
when  the  doors  were  closed,  she  pri\ately 
removed  the  keys  from  the  door  in  front  and 
the  door  at  the  back.  She  then  soi'th-  opened 
her  bedroom  window  and  sat  down  by  it,  witli 
her  bonnet  and  cloak  on,  to  prevent  her  tak- 
ing cold.  Mr.  No(.l  Vanstoiies  window  was 
on  the  same  side  of  the  house  as  lier  own.  If 
any  one  came  in  the  dark  to  speak  to  him 
from  the  garden  beneath  they  would  speak  to 
his  housekeeper  as  well.  Prepared  at  all 
points  to  intercept  every  form  of  clandestine 
communication  which  stratagem  could  invent, 
Mrs.  Lecount  watched  through  the  quiet  night. 
When  morning  came  slie  stole  down  stairs 
before  the  servant  was  up,  restored  the  keys 
to  their  places,  and  reoccupied  her  position  in 
the  parlor  until  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  made  his 
appearance  at  the  breakfast- table.  Had  he 
altered  his  mind  ?  No.  He  declined  posting 
to  the  railway  on  account  of  the  expense,  but 
he  was  as  firm  as  ever  in  his  resolution  to  go 
to  St.  Crux.  He  desired  that  an  inside  place 
might  be  secured  for  him  in  the  early  coach. 
Suspicious  to  the  last,  Mrs.  Lecount  sent  the 
baker's  man  to  take  the  place.  He  was  a 
public  servant,  and  Mr.  Bygrave  would  not 
suspect  him  of  performing  a   j)rivate  errand. 

The  coach  called  at  Sea-View.  Mrs.  F^e- 
count  saw  her  master  established  in  his  place, 
and  ascertained  that  the  oth.er  three  inside 
seats  were  alread}'  occupied  by  strangers.  Siie 
inquired  of  the  coachman  if  the  out.side  places 
(all  of  which  were  not  yet  filled  up)  hail  their 
full  complement  of  pas.sengcrs  also.  The  man 
replied  in  the  affirmative.  He  had  two  gen- 
tlemen to  call  for  in  the  town,  and  the  others 
would  take  their  places  at  the  inn.  Mrs.  Le- 
count forthwith  turned  her  steps  toward  the 
inn,  and  took  up  her  position  on  the  Parade 
opposite,  from  a  point  of  view  which  would 
enable  her  to  se«'  the  last  of  the  coach  on  its 
departure.  Tn  ten  minutes  more  it  rattled 
away,  full  outside  and  in;  and  tiie  housekeej>- 
er's  own  eyes  assured  her  that  neither  Mr. 
Bv^rave  himself  nor  any  one  belonging  U> 
North  Shingles  was  among  the  passengers. 

There  was  only  one  more    precaution    to  , 

take,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  did  not  neglect  it. 
Mr.  Bygrave  ha<l  doubtless  seen  the  coach 


172 


NO  NAME. 


call  at  Sea- View.  He  might  hire  a  carriaje 
and  follow  it  to  the  railway,  on  pure  specula- 
tion. Mrs.  Lecount  remained  within  view  of 
the  inn  (the  only  place  at  which  a  carriajrc 
could  be  obtained)  for  nearly  an  hour  longer, 
waiting  for  events.  Nothing  happened  T  no 
carriage  made  its  appearance;  no  pursuit  of 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  was  now  within  the  range 
of  human  possibility.  The  long  strain  on 
Mrs.  Lecount's  mind  relaxed  at  last.  She  left 
her  seat  on  the  Parade,  and  returned,  in 
higher  spirits  than  usual,  to  perform  the  clos- 
ing household  <-eremonies  at  Sea- View. 

She  sat  down  alone  in  the  parlor,  and  drew 
a  long  breath  of  relief.  Captain  Wraggc's 
calculations  had  not  deceived  him.  The  evi- 
dence of  her  own  senses  had  at  last  conquered 
the  housekeeper's  incredulity,  and  had  literally 
forced  her  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  b(^lief. 

Estimating  the  events  of  tlie  last  three  dap 
from  her  own  experience  of  them ;  knowing 
(as  she  certainly  knew)  tliat  the  first  idea  of 
going  to  St.  Crux  had  been  started  by  herself, 
and  that  her  master  had  found  no  opportunity 
and  shown  no  inclination  to  inform  the  family 
at  North  Shingles  that  he  had  accepted  her 
propostd — Mrs.  Lecount  was  fairly  compelled 
to  acknowledge  that  not  a  fragment  of  foun- 
dation remained  to  justify  the  continued  suspi- 
cion of  ti'eachery  in  her  own  mind.  J.ooking 
at  the  succession  of  circumstances  under  the 
new  light  thrown  on  them  by  results,  she 
could  see  nothing  unaccountable  —  nothins 
contradictory  anywhere.  The  attempt  to 
pass  off  the  forged  pictures  as  originals  was  in 
perfect  harmony  with  the  character  of  such  a 
man  as  Mr.  Bygrave.  Her  master's  indigna- 
tion at  the  attempt  to  impose  on  him ;  his 
plainly-expressed  suspicion  that  Miss  Bygrave 
was  privy  to  it;  his  disappointment  in  the 
niece;  his  contemptuous  treatment  of  tlie 
uncle  on  the  Parade; 'his  weariness  of  the 
place  wliich  had  been  the  scene  of  his  rash 
intimacy  with  strangers,  and  his  readiness  to 
quit  it  that  morning  —  all  commended  them- 
■selves  as  genuine  realities  to  the  housekeep- 
-er's  mind,  for  one  sufficient  reason.  Her  own 
eyes  had  seen  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  take  his  de- 
parture from  Aldborough  without  leaving,  or 
attempting  to  leave,  a  single  trace  behind  him 
for  the  Bygraves  to  follow. 

Thus  far  the  housekeeper's  conclusions  led 
■her,  but  no  farther.  She  was  too  shrewd  a 
woman  to  trust  the  future  to  chance  and  for- 
tune. Her  master's  variable  temper  might 
relent.  Accident  might  at  any  time  give 
Mr.  Bygrave  an  opportunity  of  repairing  the 
error  that  he  had  committed,  and  of  artfully 
regainiiig  liis  lost  place  in  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  estimation.  Admitting  that  circum- 
stances had  at  last  declared  themselves  un- 
mistakably in  her  favor,  Mrs.  Lecount  was 
not  the  less  convinced  that  nothing  would 
permanently  assure  her  master's  security  for 
the  i'uture  but  the  plain  exposure  of  the  con- 
spiracy which  she  ha,d  striven  to  accomplish 


from  the  first  —  which  she  was  resolved  to 
accomplish  still. 

"  I  always  enjoy  myself  at  St.  Crux," 
thought  Mr.s.  Lecount,  opening  her  account- 
books,  and  sorting  the  tradesmen's  bills.  "  The 
admiral  is  a  gentleman,  the  house  is  noble, 
the  table  is  excellent.  No  matter!  Here, 
in  this  house,  I  stay  by  myself  till  I  have  seen 
the  inside  of  Miss  Bygrave's  wardrobe." 

She  packed  her  master's  collection  of  curi- 
osities in  their  various  cases,  settled  the  claims 
of  th(!  tradespeople,  and  superintended  tha 
coverinsT  of  the  furniture  in  the  course  of  tha 
day.  Toward  nightfall  she  went  out,  bent  on 
investigation,  and  ventured  into  the  garden  at 
North  Shingles  under  cover  of  the  darkness. 
She  saw  the  light  in  the  parlor  window,  and 
the  lights  in  the  windows  of  the  rooms  up 
stairs,  as  usual.  After  an  instant's  hesitation 
she  stole  to  the  house-door,  and  noiselessly 
tri(;d  the  handle  from  the  outside.  It  turned 
the  lock  as  she  had  expected,  IVom  her  expe- 
rience of  houses  at  Aldborough  and  at  other 
watering-places;  but  the  door  resisted  her  — 
the  door  was  distrustfully  bolted  on  the  in- 
side. After  making  that  discovery  she  went 
round  to  the  back  of  the  house,  and  ascer- 
tained that  the  door  on  that  side  was  secured 
in  the  same  manner.  "  Bolt  your  doors,  Mr. 
Bygrave,  as  i'list  as  you  like,"  said  the  house- 
keeper, stealing  back  agaift  to  the  Parade. 
"  You  can't  bolt  the  entrance  to  your  ser- 
vant's pocket.  The  best  lock  you  have  may 
be  op(!ned  by  a  golden  key." 

She  went  back  to  bed.  The  ceaseless  watcli- 
ing,  the  unrelaxing  excitement  of  the  last 
two  days,  had  worn  lier  out. 

The  next  morning  she  rose  at  seven  o'clock. 
Li  half  an  hour  more  she  saw  the  punctual 
Mr.  Bygrave  —  as  she  had  seen  him  on  many 
previous  mornings  at  the  same  time  —  issue 
ti'om  the  gate  of  North  Shingles,  with  bia 
towels  under  his  arm,  and  make  his  way  to  a 
boat  that  was  waiting  for  him  on  the  beach. 
Swimming  was  one  among  the  many  personal 
accom[)lishments  of  wliich  the  captain  waa 
master.  He  was  rowed  out  to  sea  every  morn- 
ing, and  took  his  bath  luxuriously  in  the  deep 
blue  water.  Mrs.  Jjccount  had  already  com- 
puted the  time  consumed  in  this  recreation 
by  her  watch,  and  had  discovered  that  a  full 
hour  usually  elapsed  from  the  moment  when 
he  embarked  on  the  beach  to  th.e  moment 
when  he  returne<l. 

During  tliat  period  she  had  never  seen  any 
other  inhabitant  of  North  Shingles  leave  the 
house.  The  servant  was  no  doubt  at  her 
work  in  the  kitchen  ;  Mrs.  Bygrave  was  prob- 
ably still  in  her  bed  ;  and  Miss  Bygrave  (if 
she  was  up  at  that  early  hour)  had  perhaps 
received  directions  not  to  venture  out  in  her 
uncle's  absence.  The  difficulty  of  meeting 
the  obsta(,'le  of  Magdalen's  presence  in  the 
house  had  been,  for  some  days  past,  the  one 
difTiculty  which  all  Mrs.  Lecount's  ingenuity 
had  thus  far  proved  unable  to  overcome. 


NO  NAME. 


Ud 


She  3at  at  the.  wiiulow  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  after  the  captain's  boat  had  left  the 
beach,  with  her  mind  liard  at  work,  and  her 
eyes  fixed  nKH'haiiically  on  North  Sliingles  — 
•he  sat,  con.iidering  what'  written  excuKC  sbe 
coidd  send  to  her  master  lor  dehayinir  her 
departure  I'rom  Aldborough  for  some  days  to 
<;onie  —  when  the  door  of  the  house  she  was 
watcliiiijr  suddenly  opened,  and  Ma;vdalen  her- 
self ;iiij)eared  in  the  garden.  There^was  no 
mistaking  her  figure  and  her  dress.  She  took 
a  few  steeps  hastily  toward  the  gate  ;  stopi)t'd, 
and  j)nl!ed  down  the  veil  of  her  garden-hat,  as 
iCshe  f.it  tlie  clear  morninLr  liglit  too  much  for 
her  —  then  hurried  out  on  t!ie  P.n-ade,  and 
walked  awnv  northward  in  such  haste,  or  in 
sucli  preoccupation  of  mind,  that  she  went 
through  the  garden -gate  without  closing  it 
after  licr. 

jMrs.  Lecount  started  up  from  her  chair,  with 
a  momeni's  doubt  of  the  evidence  of  her  own 
eyes.  Had  the  opjiortunity  which  .she  had 
been  vainly  plotting  to  produce  actually  offered 
itself  to  her  of  its  own  accord?  Had  the 
chances  declared  themselves  at  last  in  her 
favor,  after  steadily  acting  against  hor  for  so 
long?  There  was  no  doubt  of  it:  in  the 
popular  phrase,  '•  lier  luck  had  turned."  She 
snatchetl  up  her  bonnet  and  uiantilla,  and 
made  for  North  Shingles  witliout  an  instant's 
hesitation.  Mr.  Bygravo  out  at  sea;  Mi.ss  l>y- 
grave  away  for  a  walk  ;  Mrs.  Bygrave  and  the 
servant  both  at  home,  and  both  easily  dealt 
with — the  op])ortunity  Mas  not  to  be  lost;  the 
risk  was  well  worth  running! 

This  time  the  house-door  was  easily  opened ; 
no  one  had  bolted  it  again  after  i\Iagdaleu's 
dcp  irturc.  Mrs.  Lecount  closed  the  door  softly, 
listened  for  a  moment  in  the  passage,  and  heard 
t!ie  servant  noisily  occupied  in  the  kitchen 
with  her  pots  and  pans.  "  If  my  lucky  star 
leads  me  straight  into  Miss  Bygrave's  room," 
thought  the  housekeeper,  stealing  noiselessly 
np  the  stairs,  "I  may  find  my  way  to  her  ward- 
robe without  disturbing  anybody." 

Slic  tried  the  door  nearest  to  (he  front  of 
the  !iou.-e,  on  the  right-hand  siih-  of  the  land- 
ing. Capricious  chance  had  deserted  her 
already.  The  lock  was  turned.  She  tried  the 
door  ojiposite,  on  her  left  hand.  The  boots 
ranged  symmetrically  in  a  row,  and  the  razors 
on  thiidr.ssing-tabh'.  told  her  at  onee  that  she 
had  not  found  the  rigiit  room  yet.  She  re- 
turn<'l  to  the  right-hand  side  of  the  landing, 
walked  down  a  little  passage  leading  to  the 
hack  of  the  house,  and  tri«'d  a  third  door.  The 
door  opened,  and  the  two  opposite  extremes 
of  female  humanity,  Mrs.  Wragge  and  Mrs. 
lA'connt,  stood  face  to  face  in  an  instant! 

"I  U'g  ten  thousand  panhmsl'  said  i\Irs. 
I/ceount,  with  the  most  consummate  self-pos- 
session. 

"  r>ord  bless  U9  and  save  us!"  cried  Mrs. 
Wraggc,  with  the  most  helpless  amazement. 

The  two  exclamations  were  uttered  in  a 
moment,  and  in   that  moment  Mrs.  Lecount 


took  the  measure  of  her  victim.  Nothing  of  the 
least  importance  escaped  her.  She  noticed  the 
Oriental  Caslimere  Kobe  lying  haH-madc,  and 
half-unpicked  again,  on  the  table  ;  she  noticed 
the  imbt'cile  toot  of  Mrs.  Wragge  searching 
blindly  in  the  neighborhood  of  her  chair  tor  a 
lost  shoe;  ^lie  noticed  that  there  was  a  second 
door  in  t!ie  room  besides  the  door  by  which 
she  had  entere<l,  and  n  second  chair  within 
easy  reach,  on  which  she  might  do  well  to  seat ' 
herself  in  a  friendly  and  confidential  way. 
'•  Pray  don't  resent  my  intrusion."  pleaded 
Mrs.  Lctount,  taking  the  chair.  "Pray  allow 
me  to  explain  myself!" 

Speaking  in  her  softest  voice;  surveying 
]\lrs.  Wragge  witli  a  sweet  smile  on  her  in- 
sinuating lips,  and  a  melting  interest  in  her 
handsome  black  eyes,  the  housekeeper  told 
her  liule  introductory  series  of  falsehoods 
with  an  artless  truthfulness  of  manner  which 
the  Father  (jf  Lies  himself  might  have  en- 
vied. She  had  lioard  from  Mr.  Bygrave  that 
Mrs.  Bygrave  v.as  a  great  invalid;  .she  had 
constantly  reproached  her.sclt',  in  her  idle  half- 
hours  at  Sea- View  (where  slie  filled  the  situ- 
ation of  JMr.  Noel  Vanstone's  housekeeper), 
for  not  having  offered  her  friendly  services  to 
Mrs.  Bygrave  ;  she  had  been  directed  by  her 
master  (doubtless  well  known  to  Mrs.  By- 
grave  as  one  of  her  husband's  friends,  and 
naturally  one  of  her  charming  niece's  ad- 
mireis)  "to  join  him  that  day  at  the  rcsidenco 
to  which  lie  had  removed  from  Aldl)orongh ; 
she  was  obliged  to  leave  early,  but  she  could 
not  reconcile  it  to  her  conscience  to  go  with- 
out calling  to  apologize  for  hi  i-  apparent  want 
of  neigldiorly  cousitleration ;  she  had  found 
nobody  in  the  house  ;  she  had  not  been  able 
to  make  the  servant  hear;  she  had  presumed 
(not  discovering  tliat  apartment  down  stairs^ 
that  ]\Irs.  Bygi-ave's  boudoir  might  be  on  the 
upper  story  ;  she  had  thoughtlessly  committed 
an  intrusion  of  which  she  was  sincerely 
ashamed,  and  she  could  now  oidy  trust  to 
Mrs.  Bygrave's  indulgence  to  excuse  and 
forgive  her. 

A  less  elaborate  apology  might  have  served 
Mrs.  Lecounts  purpose.  As  soon  as  ^Irs. 
Wragge's  struggling  perceptions  had  grasped 
the  fact  that  her  unexpected  visitor  was  a 
neighbor  well  known  to  her  by  repute,  her 
whole  being  became  absorbed  in  admiration 
of  Mr.s.  Lecounfs  lady-like  manners,  and  Mrs. 
Lecounfs  perfectly-fitting  gown!  "  What  a 
noble  Avay  she. has  of  talking!"  thought  poor 
Mrs.  Wr.igge,  as  the  housekeeper  reaclh  d  her 
closing  .«(mtencc.  "  And,  oh  my  heart  alive, 
how  nicely  she  's  dressed  !" 

"I  see  I  disturb  you,"  pursued  Mrs.  Le- 
count, artfully  availing  Ihmsc  If  of  the  Oriental 
Cashmere  Rol>c  as  a  means  ready  at  hand  of 
reaching  the  end  she  had  in  view  —  "I  see  I 
disturb  you,  ma'am,  over  an  occupation  which, 
I  know  by  experience,  requires  the  closest 
attention.  Dear,  dear  me,  you  are  unpicking 
the  dress  again,  I  see,  after  it  has  been  made  1 


174 


NO  NAME. 


This  is  my  own  experience  again,  Mrs.  By- 
grave.  Some  dresses  are  so  obstinate  !  Some 
dresses  seem  to  say  to  one  in  so  many  words, 
'  No !  you  mav  do  what  vou  like  with  me  ;  I 
won't  fit !'  "     " 

Mrs.  Wragge  was  greatly  struck  by  this 
happy  rem.ark.  She  burst  out  laughing,  and 
clapped  her  great  hands  in  the  highest  e.\- 
citement. 

"  That 's  what  tliis  gown  has  been  saying  to 
me  ever  since  I  first  put  the  scissors  into  it,'" 
she  exclaimed,  cheerfully.  "  I  know  I  've  got 
an  awful  big  back ;  but  that  's  no  reason. 
Why  should  a  gown  be  weeks  on  hand,  and 
then  not  meet  behind  j'ou  after  all  ?  It  han<is 
over  my  Boasom  like  a  sack  —  it  does.  Look 
here,  ma'am,  at  the  skirt.  It  won't  come 
right.  It  draggles  in  front,  and  cocks  up 
behind.  It  shows  my  heels — and.  Lord  knows, 
I  get  into  scrapes  enough  about  ray  heels 
without  showing  them  into  the  bargain  !" 

"  May  I  ask  a  favor  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Le- 
count,  confidentially.  "May  I  try,  Mrs.  By- 
grave,  if  I  can  make  my  experience  of  any 
use  to  you  ?  I  think  our  bosoms,  ma'am,  are 
our  great  difficulty.  Now  this  bosom  of  yours  V 
Shall  I  say  in  jjlain  words  what  *I  think  ? 
This  bosom  of  yours  is  an  Enormous  Mis- 
take !" 

"  Don't  say  that !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  im- 
ploringly. "  Don't,  please,  there  's  a  good 
soul!  It's  a  deal  bigger,  I  know;  but  it's 
modelled,  for  all  that,  from  one  of  Magdalen's 
own." 

She  was  far  too  deeply  interested  on  the 
subject  of  the  dress  to  notice  that  she  liad 
forgotten  herself  already,  and  that  she  had 
referred  to  Magdalen  by  her  own  name.  Mrs. 
Lecount's  sharp  ears  detected  the  mistake  the 
instant  it  was  committed.  "  So !  so  !"  she 
thought.  "  One  discovery  already.  If  I  had 
ever  doubted  my  own  suspicions,  here  is  an 
estimable  lady  who  would  now  have  set  me 
right.  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  proceeded, 
aloud,  "  did  you  say  this  was  modelled  from 
one  of  your  niece's  dresses  ?" 

"  Yes,"'  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  It 's  as  like 
as  two  peas." 

"  Then,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount,  adroitly, 
"  there  must  be  some  serious  mistake  in  the 
making  of  your  niece's  dress.  Can  you  show 
it  to  me?" 

"  Bless  your  heart  —  yes !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Wragge.  "  Step  this  way,  ma'am,  and  bring 
the  gown  along  with  you,  please.  It  keeps 
sliding  off,  out  of  pure  aggravation,  if  you  lay 
it  on  the  table.  There  's  lots  of  room  on  the 
bed  in  here." 

She  opened  the  door  of  communication,  and 
led  the  way  eagerly  into  Magdalen's  room. 
As  Mrs.  Lecoynt  followed  she  stole  a  look  at 
her  watch.  Never  before  had  time  flown  as 
it  flew  that  morning !  In  twenty  minutes 
more  Mr.  Bygrave  would  be  back  from  his 
bath. 

"  There !"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  throwing  open 


the  wardrobe,  and  taking  a  dress  down  from 
one  of  the  pegs.  "  Look  there  !  There  's 
plaits  on  her  Boasom,  and  plaits  on  mine. 
Six  of  one,  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other ; 
and  mine  are  the  biggest  —  that 's  all  !  " 

Mfs.  Lecount  shook  her  head  gravely,  and 
entered  forthwith  into  subtleties  of  disquisi- 
tion on  the  art  of  dress-making,  which  had 
the  desired  eff'ect  of  utterly  bewildering  the 
proprietor  of  the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  in 
less  than  three  minutes. 

"  Don't !  "  cried  Mrs.  ^Vragge,  imploringly. 
"Don't  go  on  like  that!  I'm  miles  behind 
you,  and  my  head  's  Buzzing  already.  Tell 
us,  like  a  good  soul,  what 's  to  be  done.  You 
said  something  about  the  pattern  just  now. 
Perhaps  I  'm  too  big  for  the  pattern  '?  I  can't 
help  it  if  I  am.  Many  's  the  good  cry  I  had, 
when  I  was  a  growing  girl,  over  my  own  size  ! 
1  here^s  half  too  much  of  me,  ma'am  —  meas- 
ure me  along  or  measure  me  across,  I  don't 
deny  it  —  there  's  half  too  much  of  me,  any 
way." 

"  My  dear  madam,"  protested  Mrs.  Lecount, 
"  you  do  yourself  a  wrong  !  '  Permit  me  to 
assure  you  that  you  possess  a  commanding 
figure  —  a  figure  of  Minerva.  A  majestic 
simplicity  in  the  form  of  a  woman  impera- 
tively demands  a  majestic  simplicity  in  the 
form  of  that  woman's  dress.  Tlie  laws  of 
costume  are  classical ;  the  laws  of  costume 
must  not  be  trifled  with  !  Plaits  for  Venus  — 
puffs  for  Juno  —  folds  for  Minerva.  I  ven- 
ture to  suggest  a  total  change  of  pattern. 
Your  niece  has  other  dresses  in  her  collec- 
tion. Why  may  we  not  find  a  Minerva  pat- 
tern among  them  "/  " 

As  she  said  those  words  she  led  the  way 
back  to  the  wardrobe. 

Mrs.  Wragge  followed,  and  took  the  dresses 
out  one  by  one,  shaking  her  head  despond- 
ently. Silk  dresses  appeared,  muslin  dresses 
appeared.  The  one  dress  which  remained  in- 
visible was  the  dress  of  which  Mrs.  Lecount 
was  in  search. 

"  There  's  the  lot  of  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge. 
"  They  may  do  for  Venus  and  the  two  other 
Ones  (I  've  seen  'em  in  picters  without  a  mor- 
sel of  decent  linen  among  the  three),  but  they 
won't  do  for  Me." 

"  Surely  there  is  another  dress  left  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Lecount,  pointing  to  the  wardrobe,  but 
touching  nothing  in  it.     "  Surely  I  see  some- 
thing hanging  in  the  corner  behind  that  dark  ' 
shawl '? " 

Mrs.  Wragge  removed  the  shawl ;  Mrs.  Le- 
count opened  the  door  of  the  wardrobe  a 
little  wider.  There,  hitched  carelessly  on  the 
innei'most  peg  —  there,  with  its  white  spots 
and  its  double  flounce,  was  the  brown  Alpaca 
dress ! 

The  suddenness  and  completeness  of  the 
discovery  threw  the  housekeeper,  practiced 
dissembler  as  she  was,  completely  off  her 
guard.  She  started  at  the  sight  of  the  dress. 
The  instant  afterward  her  eyes  turned  uneas- 


NO  NAME. 


175 


ily  toward  Mrs.  Wragge.  Had  the  start  been 
observed  ?  It  Lad  passed  entirely  unnoticed. 
Mrs.  Wragge's  wliolc  attention  was  fixed  on 
the  Alpaca  dress ;  she  was  staring  at  it  incom- 
prehensibly, with  an  expression  of  the  utmost 
dismay. 

"  You  seem  alarmed,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs. 
Lecount.  "  What  is  there  in  the  wardrobe 
to  Crighton  you  ?  " 

'•  I  'd  have  given  a  crown-piece  out  of  my 
pocket,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  "  not  to  have  set 
eyes  on  that  gown.  It  had  gone  clean  out 
of  my  head,  and  now  it  's  come  back  again. 
Cover  it  up!"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,' throwing 
the  shawl  over  the  dress  in  a  sudden  fit  of 
desperation.  "  If  I  look  at  it  much  longer 
I  shall  think  I  'm  back  again  in  Vauxhall 
Walk  ! " 

Vauxhall  Walk !  Those  two  words  told  Mrs. 
Lecount  she  was  on  the  brink  of  another  dis- 
covery. She  stole  a  second  look  at  her  watch. 
There  was  barely  ten  minutes  to  s))are  before 
the  time  when  Mr.  Bygrave  might  leturn  ; 
there  was  not  one  of  those  ten  minutes  which 
might  not  bring  his  niece  back  to  the  house. 
Caution  counselled  Mrs.  Lecount  to  go.  with- 
out running  any  more  risks.  Curiosity  rooted 
her  to  the  spot,  and  gave  her  the  courage  to 
stay  at  all  hazards  until  the  time  was  up.  Her 
amiable  smil«  began  to  hanlen  a  little  as  she 
probed  her  way  tenderly  into  Mrs.  Wragge's 
feeble  mind. 

"  You  have  some  unpleasant  remembrances 
of  Vauxhall  Walk?"'  she  said,  with  the  gentlest 
possible  tone  of  inquiry  in  her  voice.  "  Or, 
perhaps,  I  should  say,  unpleasant  remem- 
orances  of  that  dresa  belonging  to  your  niece  ?" 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  her  with  that  gown 
on,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  drojiping  into  a  chair 
and  beginning  to  tremble,  "  was  the  time 
when  I  came  back  from  shopping  and  saw  the 
Ghost." 

"  The  Ghost?"  repeated  Mrs.  Lecount,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  in  graceful  astonishment.  "  Dear 
madam,  pardon  me !  Is  there  such  a  thing  in 
the  world?  Where  did  you  see  it?  In  Vaux- 
hall Walk  ?  Tell  me — ^you  are  the  first  lady  I 
have  ever  met  with  who  has  seen  a  Ghost  — 
pray  tell  me !" 

Flattered  by  the  position  of  importance 
which  she  had  suddenly  cissumed  in  the  house- 
keeper'? eyes.  Mrs.  VVraggc  entered  at  full 
length  into  the  narrative  of  her  supernatural 
adventure.  The  breathless  eagerness  with 
which  Mrs.  Lecount  listened  to  her  description 
of  the  spectre's  costume,  the  spectre's  hurry  on 
the  stairs,  and  tlie  spectre's  disappearance  in 
the  bedroom;  the  extraordinary  interest  which 
Mrs.  Lecount  displayed  on  hearing  that  the 
dress  in  the  wardrobe  was  the  very  dress  in 
which  Magdalen  hapjjcned  to  be  attired  at  the 
awful  moment  when  the  ghost  vanished,  en- 
t;ourage(l  Mrs.  Wragge  to  wade  deeper  and 
deeper  into  details,  and  to  involve  herself  in  a 
confusion  of  collateral  cir,cun)stanccs  out  of 
which  tlierc  ficemed  to  be  no  pro.spect  of  her 


emerging  for  hours  to  come.     Faster  and  faster 
the  ine.xoi'able  minutes  flew  by;   nearer  and 
nearer  came  the  fatal  moment  of  Mr.  Bygrave's 
return.    Mrs.  Lecount  looked  at  her  watch  for 
the   third   time  without   an   attempt,   on   this 
occasion,  to  conceal  the  ac  tion  from  her  com- 
panion's notice.    There  was  literally  twy  min- 
utes left  for  her  to  get  clear  of  North  Shingles. 
Two  minutes  would  be  enough,  if  no  accident 
happened.      She  had  discovered   the   Alpaca 
dress;  she  had  heard  the  whole  story  ot  the 
adventure  in  Vauxhall  Walk  ;  and,*more  than 
that,  she  had  even  informed  herself  of  the  num- 
ber of  the  house — which  Mrs.  Wragge  happen- 
ed to  remember,  because  it  answered  to  the 
number  of  years  in  her  own  age.     All  that  was 
j  necessary  to  her  master's  complete  enlighten- 
'  ment   she    had   now   accomplished.     Even   if 
I  there  had  been  time  to  stay  longer,  there  was 
;  nothing  worth  staying  for.     "  I  'II  strike  this 
j  worthy  idiot  dumb  with  a  c<nip  d'e/a("  thought 
j  the  housekeeper,  "  and  vanish  before  she  re- 
I  covers  herself." 

>  "  Horiible  !"  cried  Mrs.  Lecount,  interrupt- 
i  ing  the  ghostly  narrative  by  a  shrill  little 
1  scream,  and  making  for  the  door,  to  Mrs. 
I  Wragge's  unutterable  astonishment,  without 
1  the  least  ceremony.  "  You  freeze  the  very 
1  marrow  of  my  bones.  Good-morning!"  She 
j  coolly  tossed  the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  into 
Mrs.  Wragge's  expansive  lap,  and  left  thv; 
I  room  in  an  instant. 

j      As  she  swiftly  descended  the  stairs  she  heard 
1  the  door  of  the  bedroom  open. 
'      "  Where  are  your  manners?"  cried  a  voice 
from  above,  hailing  hei-  feebly  oyer  the  balus- 
I  ters.      "  What  do  you  mean  by  pitching  my 
I  gown  at  me  in  that  way?     You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself!"  pursued  Mrs.  Wragge, 
turning  from  a  lamb  to  a  lioness  as  she  grad- 
ually   realized    tiie    indignity    odcrcd    to    the 
!  Cashmere  Robe.     "  You  nasty  foreigner,  you 
;  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself!" 
I      Pursued  by  this  valedictory  address,  Mrs. 
'.  Lecount  reached  the  house-door,  and  opened 
it  without  interruption.      She  glided  rajjidly 
,  along   the   garden-path,   passed    through    the 
j  gate,  and,  finding  herself  .«afe  on  the  Parade, 
j  stopped  and  looked  toward  the  sea. 

The  first  object  which  her  eyes  encountered 
!  was  the  figure  of  Mr.  Bygrave  standing  motion- 
j  less  on  the  I'cach — a  j)ctrificd  bather,  with  his 
!  towels  in  his  hand !     One  glance  at  him  was 
enough  to  siiow  that  he  had  seen  the  house- 
keeper pas.sing  out  through  his  garden-gate. 

Rightly  conjecturing  that  Mr.  Bygrave's  first 
impulse  would  lead  him  to  make  instant  in- 
quiries in  his  own  house,  Mrs.  Lecount  pursued 
her  way  back  to  Sea-View  as  composedly  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  When  she  entered 
the  parlor,  where  her  solitary  breakfast  was 
waiting  for  her,  she  was  surprised  to  see  a  letter 
lying  on  the  table.  She  approached  to  take  it 
up  with  an  expression  of  nnpatiencc,  thinking 
it  might  be  some  tradesman's  bill  which  she 
had  forgotten. 


176 


NO  NAME. 


It  was  the  I'brsed  letter  from  ZuriL'h. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  post-mark  and  the  liandwriting;  on  the 
address  (admirably  imitated  from  the  Oii^ina!) 
warned  Mrs.  Lecouiit  of  the  contents  of  tiie 
hitter  before  she  opened  it. 

After  waiting  a  moment  to  eompose  herself 
she  read  the  announcement  of  her  brothei''s 
relapse. 

There  wa?  nothing  in  the  liandwriting,  there 
was  no  expression  in  any  part  of  the  letter, 
which  could  suggest  to  her  mind  the  faintest 
susY)icion  of  foul  play.  Not  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  occurred  to  her  that  the  summons  to  her 
brother's  bedside  was  genuine.  The  hand  that 
held  the  letter  dropped  heavily  into  her  lap ; 
she  became  pale,  and  old,  and  haggard  in 
a  moment.  Thoughts  far  removed  from  her 
present  aims  and  interests,  remembrances  that 
carried  her  back  .to  other  lands  than  England, 
to  other  times  than  the  time. of  her  life  in  ser- 
vice, prolonged  their  inner  shadows  to  the  sur- 
face, and  showed  the  traces  of  their  nt^s'.erions 
f)assage  darkly  on  her  face.  The  minutes  fol- 
owed  each  other,  and  still  the  servant  below 
stairs  waited  vainly  lor  the  ]jarior-bell.  The 
minutes  followed  each  other,  and  still  she  sat, 
tearless  and  quiet,  dead  to  the  present  and  the 
future,  living  iu  the  past. 

Tlie  entrance  of  the  servant,  uncalled, 
roused  her.  With  a  heavy  sigh  the  cold  and 
secret  woman  folded  the  letter  up  again,  and 
addressed  hoi^elf  to  the  interest  and  the  duties 
of  the  passing  time. 

She  decided  the  question  of  going  or  not 
going  to  Zurich  after  a  veiy  brief  consider- 
ation of  it.  ik'fore  siie  had  drawn  her  chair 
to  tlu;  breakfast-table  slie  had  resolved  to  go. 

Admirably  as  Captain  Wragge's  stratagem 
had  worked,  it  might  have  failed  —  unassisted 
by  the  occurrence  of  the  morning — to  achiev(> 
this  result.  The  very  accident  against  which 
it  had  been  the  captain's  chief  anxiety  to 
guard  —  the  accident  which  had  just  taken 
place  in  spite  of  him  —  was,  of  all  the  events 
,  that  could  have  happened,  the  one  event 
whiclrfalsiiied  every  previous  calculation,  by 
directly  forwarding  the  main  purpose  of  the 
conspiracy !  If  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  ob- 
tained the  information  of  which  she  was  in 
search'  before  the  receipt  of  tlie  letter  from 
Zurich,  the  letter  might  have,  addressed  her 
m  vain.  She  would  have  hesitated  before 
deciding  to  leave  England,  and  that  hesita- 
tion might  have  proved  fatal  to  the  ♦.•aptain's 
scheme. 

As  it  was,  Avith  tb'i  plain  proofs  in  her  pos- 
session—  with  the  gown  discovered  in  Mag- 
dalen's wardrode ;  with  the  piece  cut  out  of  it 
in  her  own  pocket-book;  and  with  the  knowl- 
edge, obtained  from  Mrs.  Wragge,  of  the 
very  house   in  which   the  disguise   had  been 


put  on  —  Mrs.  Lecount  had  now  at  her  com- 
mand the  means  of  warning  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  as  she  had  never  been  able  to  warn  him, 
yet;  or,  in  other  words,  the  nu-ans  of  guard- 
ing against  any  dangerous  tendencies  toward 
recon<'iliation  with  the  Bygraves,  which  miglit 
otherwise  have  entered  his  mind  during  her 
a"bsence  at  Zurich.  The  only  difliculry  which 
now  perplexed  her  was  the  difficulty  of  de-- 
ciding  whether  she  should  communicate  with 
lier  master  personally  or  by  writing  before  her 
departure  from  England. 

She  looked  again  at  the  doctor's  letter. 
The  word  "  instantly"  in  the  sentence  which 
summoned  her  to  her  dying  brother  was  twice 
underlined.  Admiral  Bartram's  house  wa.s 
at  some  distance  from  the  railway  ;  the  time 
consumed  in  driving  to  St.  Crux,  and  driving 
back  again,  might  be  time  fatally  lost  on  the 
journey  to  Zurich.  Although  slie  would  in- 
finitely have  preferred  a  personal  interview 
with  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  there  was  no  choice, 
on  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  but  to  save  the 
precious  hours  by  writing  to  him. 

After  sending  to  secure  a  place  at  once  in 
the  early  coach  she  sat  down  to  write  to  her 
ma^ter. 

Her  first  thought  was  to  tell  him  all  that 
had  happened  at  North  Shingles  that  morn- 
ing. On  reflection,  liowevcr,  she  rejected  the 
idea.  Once  already  (in  copying  the  personal 
description  from  Miss  Garth's  letter)  she  had 
trusted  her  weapons  in  her  master's  hands, 
a!id  I\Ir.  Bygrave  had  contrived  to  turn  them 
against  her.  She  resolved  this  time  to  keep 
them  strietlj^  in  her  own  possession.  The  se- 
cret of  the  missing  fragment  of  the  Alpaca 
dress  was  known  to  no  living  creature  but 
herself;  and,  until  her  return  to  England,  she 
determined  to  keep  it  to  hersell'.  The  neces- 
sary impression  might  be  produced  on  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  mind  without  venturing  into 
details.  She  knew  by  experience  the  form  of 
letter  which  might  be  trusted  to  produce  an 
ctFect  on  him,  and  she  now  wrote  it,  in  these 
words: 


"D,:Ar.  Mil.  Noli, — Sad  news  has  rpached  me  from  Switz- 
erl;ujil.  My  beldvod  brother  is  d.vin.s;;,  and  liia  medical 
attend-.tnt  summons  me  instantly  to  Zuricli.  The  serious 
nocoK.siry  of  ;t,vailing  niysclf  of  tlie  t:;trlic.it  means  of  con- 
vt-yauce  ti)  t'lie  Continent  leaves  me  liut  one  alternative.  I 
mnst  profit  by  the  permission  to  leave  Kn.nland.  if  neces- 
sary, which  you  kindly  granted  to  me  at  tlie  befrinnitig  i»f 
my  I'rother'.^  ilhie.?s;  and  I  must  avoid  all  delay  by  going 
s;raiy;lit  to  London,  instead  of  turnin.a;  .aside,  as  1  should 
have  liked,  to  see  you  first  at  St.  Crux. 

'•  I'ainfuUy  as  1  am  aflectcd  by  the  family  calamity  whieh 
has  fallen  on  me.  1  can  not  let  this  opportunity  pi\as  with- 
out adverting  to  another  sltb.ject,  which  seriously  concerns 
your  welfare,  and  in  whicii  ion  that  account)  your  old 
liou.sekeeper  feels  the  deepest  interest. 

•  1  am  going  to  surprise  and  shock  yon  Jlr.  Noel.  Pray 
don't  be  agitated  !     Pray  compose  yourself ! 

"  The  impudent  attempt  to  cheat  you.  which  lias  happily 
opened  your  eyes  to  the  true  character  of  our  neighbors  at 
North  Shingles,  was  not  the  only  object  which  ?.!r.  Bygrave 
had  in  forcing  himself  on  your  acquaintar.ee.  The  infa- 
mous conspiracy  with  which  you  were  threatened  in  London 
has  been  in  full  progress  against  you,  under  Mr.  Bygravc'g 
direction,  at  Aldborough.  Accident  —  I  will  tell  you  what 
accident  when  we  meet  —  has  put  me  in  poS3essi(m  of  in- 
formation precious  to  your  future  security.  1  have  discov- 
ered, to  au  absolute  certainty,  that  the  person  calling  her- 


NO  NAME. 


177 


seir  Miss  By^avp  is  no  other  than  the  woman  wiio  visited 
us  in  ilingiiise  at  Viwxliall  Wall;, 

•I  Biispccted  thirt  from  the  first:  hut  I  had  no  evidence- 
to  support  my  suspicions:  1  had  no  means  of  combating 
the  false  impression  produced  on  yon.  My  hands,  1  thank 
Heaven  are  ried  no  lonsor.  I  possess  absolute  pnx.f  of  the 
assertion  that  I  Lave  jus:  made — Jiroof  that  yonr  own  eyes 
can  see— proof  that  wonid  satisfy  you  if  you  weie.judjce  In 
a  Court  of  Justice. 

•  I'erliaps  even  vot.  Mr.  Noel  you  will  refuse  to  believe 
me?  Be  it  so.  llelieve  me  or  not.  ]  have  one  l:ist  favor 
to  ask  which  your  .Kiiglish  sense  of  fair  play  will  net  deny 
me. 

'•This  melancholy  jc^in-ney  of  mine  will  keep  me  away 
from  i;ngli'.ii(l  for  a  forlnigiit,  or  at  mo.st  for  three  weeks. 
Yuu  will  ubjige  mo  —  ;.;id  yon  will  certainly  not  sacrifice 
youi  (i>vn  convenience  and  pleasure  —  by  staying  through 
tli:'.t  interval  with  your  friends  at  St.  Crux.  If  before  my 
retiiiu  some  |Uuexpecte.l  circunu«tante  throws  yon  once 
moie  into  tiie  company  of  the  liy^'raves,  and  if  yonr  nat- 
ural kindness  of  heart  inclines  you  to  receive  the  excuses 
which  they  will  in  that  case  certainly  address  to  you,  place 
one  trilling  restraint  on  yourself,  fn-  your  own  sake,  if  not 
for  mine.  Suspend  your  fiirtatinn  wilh  the  young  lady  (I 
bug  pardon  of  all  other  young  holies  for  calling  her  soil 
until  my  return.  If  when  1  come  bar!;.  I  fail  to  prove 
to  you  that  Miss  Bygiave  is  the  woman  who  wore  thai 
disguise,  and  used  those  tiireatening  words  in  Vauxhall 
Walk.  I  will  engage  to  leave  yonr  service  at  a  days  no- 
tice;  :ind  I  will  :itone  for  the  sin  of  bearing  false  witness 
against  my  neighbor  by  resigning  every  claim  I  have  to 
your  grateful  rennmbrancc.  on  your  latber"s  account  as 
well  as  on  yonr  own.  I  make  tli.s  engagement  without 
reserve  of  any  kin-1:  and  I  piomise  to  abide  by  it.  if  my 
proofs  fail,  on  the  I'aith  of  a  good  Catholic  ami  the  word  of 
an  honest  woman. 

'■Your  faithful  servant. 

'•ViRnlNTn    T.ECOCNT." 

i 
Tlie  closing  sf  ntences  of  tlii,'!  lotter — as  the  ! 
hou.'^ckoopfr  well  know  wIhmi  she  M'rote  them  j 
—  c'lubodiL'd  the  ono  appeal  to  ilr.  Noel  Van-  j 
stone  wliieh  t'oultl  be  eertainly  trusted  to  pro-  I 
duci"  a  deep  and    lastinj;  eirert.      JSlie  mijxht  i 
liavo  ;<taked   lier  oath,  her  lite,  or  her  re[)ii-  | 
tation  on  proviiig  the  assertion  whieh  she  iiad 
made,  and  have  I'ailetl  to  leave  a  permanent 
impression  on  his  mind.    But  when  she  slaked 
not  only  her  po.-:ition  in  iiis  .service,  but  her 
pecuniary  claims  on  him  as  well,  she  at  once 
absorbed  the  ruling  passion  of  his  lite  in  ex- 
pectation of  the  result.  Tiiere  was  not  a  doubt 
of  it;  in  tlie  stronixest  of  all  his  interests — the 
interest  of  savinc:  his  money — he  woukl  wait. 
"  Checkmate  for   Mr.    Byoravi>  !"   thought 
]\Irs.  L'jcount,  as  she  sealed  and  directed  the 
letter.     "The   battle   is  over  —  the  game   is 
played  out." 

While  Mrs.  Lecount  was  providing  for  her 
master's  future  security  at  Sea- View  events 
were  in  fidl  progress  at  North  Shingles. 

As  soon  as  ('aptain  Wraggir  recovered  his 
astonishment  at  the  housekeeper's  appearance 
on  his  own  premises  lie  hurried  into  the  house, 
and,  guided  by  his  own  forebodings  of  the  dis- 
aster that  had  happened,  made  straight  for  liis 
wife's  room. 

Never,  in  all  her  former  experience,  had 
poor  Mrs.  Wragge  felt  the  full  weight  of  the 
captain's  indignation  as  she  felt  it  now.  All 
the  little  inteliigtMice  she  natui'ally  possessed 
vanished  at  once  in  the  whirlwind  of  her  hus- 
band's rage.  Thi*  only  plain  facts  which  he 
could  extract  from  her  were  two  in  number. 
In  the  first  place,  Magdalen's  rash  desertion 
of  her  post  proved  to  liave  no  better  reason 
2* 


to  excuse  it  than  Magdalen's  incorrigible  im- 
patience :  she  had  passed  a  .''leepless  night ; 
she  had  risen  feverish  and  wretched ;  and  she 
had  gone  out,  reckless  of  all  consequences,  to 
cool  her  burning  head  in  the  fresh  air.  In 
the  second  place,  Mrs.  Wragge  had,  on  her 
own  confession,  seen  Mrs.  Lecount,  had  talked 
witli  Mrs.  Lecount,  and  had  ended  by  telling 
Mrs.  Lecount  the  story  of  the  ghost.  Having 
made  these  discoveries,  Captain  Wragge  wash- 
ed no  more  time  in  contending  with  his  wife's 
terror  and  confusion.  He  withdrew  at  once 
to  a  window  which  commanded  an  uninter- 
rupted prospect  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  house, 
and  there  established  him.self  on  the  watch  for 
events  at  Sea- View,  precisely  as  Mrs.  Le- 
count had  eslal)lislicd  herself  on  the  watch  for 
events  at  North  Shingles. 

Not  a  word  of  comment  on  the  disaster  of 
the  morning  escaped  him  when  Magdalen  re- 
turned and  found  him  at  his  post.  His  flow 
of  language  seemed  at  last  to  have  run  dry. 
"  I  told  you  what  Mrs.  Wragge  woidd  do,"  he 
said;  "and  Mrs.  AWagge  has  done  it."  He 
sat  unflinchingly  at  the  window,  with  a  pa- 
tience which  iNIrs.  Lecount  herself  could  not 
have  surpassed.  The  one  active  proceeding 
in  which  he  seemed  to  tiiink  it  necessary  to 
engage  was  performed  by  deputy.  He  sent 
the  servant  to  the  inn  to  hire  a  chaise  and 
a  fast  horse,  and  to  say  that  he  would  call 
himself  before  noon  that  day  and  tell  the 
liostler  when  the  vehicle  would  be  wanted. 
Not  a  sign  of  impatience  escaped  him  until 
the  timeiirew  near  for  the  departure  of  the 
early  coach.  Then  the  captain's  curly  lips 
began  to  twitch  with  anxiety,  and  the  cap- 
tain's restless  fingers  beat  the  devil's  tattoo 
unintcrmittingly  on  the  window-pane. 

The  rumbling  wheels  were  heard  at  last, 
the  coach  drew  up  at  Sea-View,  and  Captain 
Wraage's  own  observation  informed  him  that 
one  among  the  passeuixers  who  left  Aldbor- 
ough  that  morning  was  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  main  uncertainty  disposed  of,  a  serious 
question  —  suggested  by  tlie  events  of  the 
morning — still  remained  to  be  solved.  Which 
was  the  destined  end  of  Mrs.  Lecounfs  jour- 
ney —  Zurich  or  St.  Crux  ?  That  she  would 
certaiwly  inform  her  master  of  Mrs.  Wragge's 
crhost  storv.  and  of  every  other  disclosure  in 
relation  to  iianies  and  places  which  might 
have  escajied  Mrs.  Wragge's  lips,  was  beyond 
all  doubt.  But  of  the  two  ways  at  her  dis- 
posal of  doing  tin-  mischief— either  person- 
ally or  by  letter  —  it  was  vitally  impoi-tant  to 
the  captain  to  know  which  she  had  chosen. 
If  she  had  gone  to  the  admiral's,  no  choice 
would  be  left  him  but  to  follow  the  coach,  to 
caich  the  train  by  which  she  travelled,  and 
outstrip  her  afterward  on  the  drive  from  the 
station  in  Essex  to  St.  Crux.  If,  on  the  con- 
trarv.  she  liad  been  contented  with  writing  to 
her  master,  it  would  only  be  necessary  to  de- 
vise measures  for  intercepting  the  letter.  The 
captain  decided  on  going  to  the  j>ost-ofHce  in 


17S 


NO  NAME. 


the  first  place.  Assuming  that  the  house- 
keeper had  written,  she  would  not  have  left 
the  letter  at  the  mercy  of  the  servant  —  she 
would  have  seen  it  safely  in  the  letter-box 
befoi'e  leaving  Aldborough. 
.  "  Good-morning,"  said  the  captain,  cheer- 
fully addressing  the  postmaster.  "I  am  Wr. 
Bygrave,  of  North  Shingles.  J  think  you 
have  a  letter  in  the  box  addressed  to  Mr. 
?  ' 

The  postmaster  was  a  short  man,  and  con- 
sequently a  man  with  a  proper  idea  of  his 
own  importance.  He  solemnly  checked  Caji- 
tain  AVragge  in  full  career. 

"  When  a  letter  is  once  posted,  Sir,"  he 
said,  "  nobodj'  out  of  the  office  has  any  busi- 
ness with  it  until  it  reaches  its  address." 

The  captain  was  not  a  man  to  be  daunted, 
even  b}-  a  postmaster.  A  bi-ight  idea  struck 
Lim.  He  took  out  his  pocket-book,  in  which 
Admiral  Bartiam's  address  was  written,  and 
returned  to  the  charge. 

"  Suppose  a  letter  has  been  wrongly  direct- 
ed by  mistake  y  "  he  began.  "And  suppose 
the  writer  wants  to  correct  the  error  after  the 
letter  is  put  in  the  Ijox  V  " 

"AVheu  a  letter  is  once  posted,  Sir,"  reiter- 
ated the  impenetrable  local  authority,  '•  no- 
body out  of  the  office  touches  it  on  any  pre- 
tense whatever." 

"  Granted  with  all  my  heart,"  persisted  the 
captain.  "  I  don't  want  to  touch  it —  I  only 
want  to  explain  myself.  A  lady  has  posted  a 
letter  here  addressed  to  '  Noel  Vanstone,  Es(}., 
Admiral  Bartram's,  St.  Crux-in-tlie-Marsli, 
Esse.x.'  She  wrote  in  a  great  hurrj',  and  she 
is  not  quite  certain  whether  sJie  added  the 
name  of  the  post-town,  '  Ossory.'  Jt  is  of  the 
last  importance  that  the  delivery  of  the  letter 
should  not  be  delayed.  What  is  to  hinder 
your  facilitating  the  post-office  work,  and 
obliging  a  lady,  by  adding  the  name  of  the 
post-town  (if  it  ha])pens  to  be  left  out)  with 
your  own  hand  ?  J  put  it  to  you  as  a  zealous 
oifiecr  —  what  possible  objection  can  there  be 
to  granting  my  recjuest '?  " 

The  postmaster  was  compelled  to  acknowl- 
edge that  there  could  be  no  objection,  provid- 
ed nothing  but  a  necessary  line  was  added  to 
the  address;  provided  nobody  touched  the 
letter  but  liimself ;  and  provided  the  precious 
time  of  the  post-office  was  not  suffered  to  run 
to  waste.  As  there  hap[)ened  to  be  nothing 
particular  to  do  at  that  moment,  he  would 
readily  oblige  the  lady  at  Mr.  Bygrave's  re- 
quest. * 

Captain  Wragge  watched  ther  postmaster's 
hands,  as  they  sorted  the  letters  in  the  box, 
with  breathless  eagerness.  AVas  the  letter 
there  ?  Would  the  hands  of  the  zealous  pub- 
lie  sei-A-ant  suddenly  stop  ?  Yes  !  They  stop- 
ped, and  picked  a  letter  out  from  the  rest. 

"'Noel  Vanstone,  Esq.,'  did  you  say?" 
asked  tlie  postmaster,  keeping  the  letter  in 
Lis  own  hand. 

"  '  Noel  Vaustoue,  Esq.,'  "  replied  the  cap- 


tain, "  '  Admiral  Bartram's.  St.  Crux-in-the- 
Marsh.'" 

"  '  Ossory,  Essex.'  "  chimed  in  the  postmas- 
ter, throwing  the  letter  back  into  the  box. 
"  The  lady  has  made  no  mistake.  Sir.  The 
address  is  quite  right." 

Nothing  but  a  timely  consideration  of  the 
heavy  debt  he  owed  to  appearances  juevent- 
ed  Captain  AVragge  fiom  throwing  his  tall 
white  hat  up  into  the  air  as  soon  as  he  found 
himself  in  the  street  once  more.  All  further 
doubt  was  now  at  an  end.  Mrs.  Lecount  had 
written  to  her  master,  therefore  Mrs.  Lecount 
was  on  her  way  to  Zurich  ! 

AVith  his  head  higher  than  ever,  with  the 
tails  of  his  respectable  frock-coat  floating  be- 
hind him  in  the  breeze,  with  his  bosom's 
native  impudence  sitting  lightly  on  its  throne, 
the  captain  strutted  to  the  inn  and  called  for 
the  railway  time-table.  After  making  certain 
calculations  (in  black  and  white,  as  a  matter 
of  course),  he  ordered  the  chaise  to  be  ready 
in  an  hour,  so  as  to  reach  the  railway  in  time 
for  the  second  ti-ain  running  to  London,  with 
which  there  happened  to  be  no  communica- 
tion from  Aldborougii  by  coach. 

His  next  proceeding  was  of  a  far  moi'e 
serious  kind  ;  his  ne^t  proceeding  implied  a 
terrible  certainty  of  success.  --  The  day  of  the 
week  was  Thursday.  From  the  inn  he  went 
to  the  church,  saw  the  clerk,  and  gave  the 
necessary  notice  for  a  marriage  by  license  on 
the  ibllowing  Monday. 

Bold  as  he  was>  his  nerves  were  a  littli'. 
shaken  by  this  last  achievement ;  his  hand 
trembled  as  it  lifted  the  latch  of  the  garden- 
gate.  He  doctored  his  nerves  with  brandy 
and  water  before  he  sent  for  ]\Iagdalen  to  in- 
form her  of  the  proceedings  of  the  morning. 
Another  outbreak  might  reasomibly  be  ex- 
pected when  she  heard  that  the  last  irrevoca- 
ble step  had  been  taken,  and  that  notice  had 
been  given  of  the  wedding-day. 

The  captain's  watch  Avarned  him  to  lose  no 
time  in  emptying  his  glass.  Li  a  few  minutes 
he  sent  the  necessary  message  up  stairs. 
AVhile  waiting  for  IMagdalen's  appearance  he 
provided  himself  with  certain  materials  which 
were  now  necessary  to  carry  the  conspiracy 
to  its  crowning  point.  In  the  first  place,  he 
wrote  his  assumed  name  (by  no  means  in  so 
fine  a  hand  as  usual)  on  a  blank  visiting-card, 
and  added,  underneath,  these  words  :  •'  Not  a 
moment  is  to  be  lost.  I  am  waiting  for  you 
at  the  door  —  come  down  to  me  directly." 
His  ne.xt  proceeding  was  to  take  some  half- 
dozen  envelopes  out  of  the  case,  and  to  direct 
tiiem  all  alike  to  the  following  address: 
"  Thomas  Bygrave,  Esq.,  Mussared's  Hotel, 
Salisbury  Street,  Strand,  London."  After 
carefully  placing  the  envelopes  and  the  -card 
in  his  breast-pocket  he  shut  up  the  desk.  As 
he  rose  from  the  writing-table  Magdalen  came 
into  the  room. 

The  captain  took  a  moment  to  decide  on 
the  best  method  of  opening   the   interview ; 


NO  NA^fF. 


175 


and  determined,  in  his  own  plira^c,  to  dash  at  |  word  !     Shall  I  tear  the  envelopes  up,  or  shall 
it.     In  two  words  hilk)ld  Magdalen  what  had  ,  I  put  them  back  in  my  pocket  V" 
happened,  and  inlbrmed  her  that  Monday  was        Tliere  was   a  panse  of  dead  silenee.     The 
to  be  her  weddlntj-day.  murmur  of  the  summer  waves  on  tlie  shinnflo 

lie  was  prepnred  to  quiet  her  if  she  burst  of  the  beach,  and  the  voices  of  the  summer 
into  a  frenzy  of  passion  ;  to  reason  with  her  ,  idlers  on  the  Parade,  floated  throucrh  the  open 
if  she  beorged  for  time  ;  to  sympathize  with  I  window  and  filled  the  empty  stillness  of  the 
her  if  she  melted  into  tears.      To  his  inex- i  room. 

pressible  sur[)rlse  results  falsified  all  his  cal- j       She  raised  her  head:  she  lifted  her  hand  and 
culations.     .She  heanl  him  without  uttering  a  |  pointed  steadily  to  tlie  envelopes. 


word,  without  shedding  a  tear.  When  lie 
had  done  she  dropped  into  a  chair.  Her 
lar'Te  urav  eves  sthred  at  him  vacantly.  In 
one  mvsterious  instant  all  her  beauty  !et"t  her; 
her  face  stifi'ened  awfully,  like  the  face  of  a 
corpse.  For  the  first  time  in  the  captain's 
experience  of  her,  fear — all-mastering  fear  — 
hud  taken  possession  of  her,  body  and  soul. 
"  You  arc  nbt  flinching  ?  "   he  said,  trving 


Put  them  back,'"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  mean  it." 

As  she  gave  that  answer  there  was  a  sound 
of  wheels  on  the  road  outside. 

''You  hear  those  wheels?'  said  Captain 
Wragg(!. 

"  1  hear  thom." 

"  Y'ou   see   the  chaise  ?"'   said  the  captain, 


to  rouse  her.     "  Surely  you  are  not  flinching  '  pointing  througii   the  window,  as  the  chaise 


which  had  been  ordered  from  the  inn  made  its 
appearance  at  the  garden-gate. 

"  I  see  it." 

"  And  of  }Our  own  free-will  you  tell  me  to 
go  ?" 

•'  Yes.     Go !" 

Without  another  word  he  left  her.  Ti;e 
servant  was  waiting  at  the  door  with  his 
travelling-ba^.  "Miss  Bygrave  is  not  well," 
he  said.  "  Tell  your  mistress  to  go  to  her  in 
the  parlor." 

He  stepped  into  the  gig  ai*l  started  on  the 
first  stage  of  the  journev  to  St.  Crux. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


at  the  last  moment." 

No  light  of  intelligence  came  into  her  eyes; 
no  change  passed  over  her  face.  But  she 
heard  him,  tor  she  moved  a  little  in  the  chair 
and  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  You  planned  tiiis  marriage  of  your  own 
^"ee-will,"  ])ursue(l  the  captain,  with  the  fur- 
tive look  and  the  faltering  voice  of  a  man  ill 
at  ease.  ''  It  was  your  own  idea,  not  mine.  I 
won't  have  the  respousibility  laid  on  my  shoul- 
ders—  no  !  not  tor  twice  two  hundred  pounds. 
If  your  resolution  fails  you,  if  you  think  bet- 
ter" of  it  —  ?  " 

He  stopped.  Her  face  was  changing;  her 
lips  were  moving  at  last.  She  slowly  raised 
her  left  hand,  with  the  fingers  outspread  — 
she  looked  at  it  as  if  it  was  a  hand  that  was 
strange  to  her  — she  counted  the  days  on  it — 
the  days  before  the  marriage.     *  |      Toward  three  o'clock  that  afternoon   Cap- 

"  Friday,  one,"  she  whispered  to  herself:  i  tain  Wragge  stopped  at  the  nearest  station  to 
"  Saturday,  two  ;  Sunday,  three  ;  Monday — "  1  Ossory  which  the  railway  passed  in  its  course 
Her  hands  dropped  into  her  lap;  her  face  |  through  Essex.  Incpiiries  made  on  the  spot 
stifTcnc^d  again.  The  deadly  fear  fastened  its  |  informed  him  that  he  might  drive  to  St.  Crux, 
paralyzing  hold  on  her  once  more,  and  the  ,  remain  there  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  re- 
next  words  died  away  on  her  lips.  I  turn  to  the  stati(|n  in  time  for  an  evening  train   , 

Captain  Wragge  took  out  his  handkerchief  i  to  London.  In  ten  minutes  more  the  captain 
and  wiped  his  forehead.  was  on  the  road  again,  driving  rapidly  in  the 

"  Damn  the  two  hundred  pounds!"  he  said,    direction  of  the  coast. 
"  Two  thou«and  wouldn't  pay  me  for  this  I"  After  proceeding  some  miles  on  the  highway, 

He  went  back  to  the  writing-table,  took  the  the  cari-ia<re  turned  off,  and  the  coachman  in- 
envelo])es  which  he  had  addressed  to  himself !  volved  himself  in  an  intricate  net -work  of 
out  of  his  pocket,  and  returned  to  the  chair  in  j  cross-roads.  • 

which  she  was  sittiu;3,  with  the  envelopes  in  his  !      "  Are  we  far  from  St.  Crux?"  asked  the  cap- 
hand.  I  tain,  growing  impatient,  after  mile  on  mile  had 

"  Kouse  yourself,"  he  said;  "I  have  a  last!  been  passecl,  without  a  sign  of  reaching  the 
word  to  say  to  you.     Can  ymi  listen  ?"  jouniev's  end. 

She  struggled  and  roused  herself —  a  faint  I      "  You  11  ^ee  the  house.  Sir,  at  the  next  turn 
tinge  of  color  stole  over  her  Avhite  cheeks — she  I  in  the  road,"  said  the  man. 
bowed  her  head.  I      The  next  turn   in  the  road  brought  them 

"  Look  at  these,"  pursued  Captain  Wragge,  within  view  of  the  open  country  again.  Ahead 
flolding  up  the  envelopes.  "If  I  turn  these  to  6f  the  carriage  Captain  Wragge  saw  a  long 
the  use  for  which  they  have  been  written,  !Mrs.  i  dark  line  against  the  sky — the  line  of  the  sea- 
Lecount's  master  wiil  never  receive  Mrs.  Le-  i  wall  which  protects  the  low  coast  of  Esee.x 
count's  letter.  If  I  tear  them  u]>,  he  will  know  from  inundation.  The  flat  intermediate  coun- 
by  to-morrow's  post  that  you  are  the  woman  1  try  was  intersected  by  a  labyrinth  of  tidal 
who  visited  him  in  Vauxhall  Walk.     Say  the  ■  streams,  winding  up  from  the  invisible  soa  in^ 


ISO 


NO  NAME. 


strange  fantastic  curves — rivers  at  liiijh  water, 
and  channels  of  mud  at  low..  On  his  right 
hand  was  a  quaint  little  village,  mostly  com- 
posed of  wooden  liouses,  straggling  down  to 
the  brink  of  one  of  the  tidal  streams.  On  his 
left  hand,  farther  away,  rose  the  gloomy  ruins 
of  an  Abbey,  with  a  long,  low,  desolate  pile  of 
building,  of  vast  extent  and  great  age,  at- 
tached to  it.  One  of  the  streams  from  the  sea 
(called  in  Essex  "backwaters")  curled  alm.ost 
entirely  round  the  house.  Another,  from  an 
opposite  quarter,  appeared  to  run  straight 
through  the  grounds,  and  to  separate  one  side 
of  the  sliapeiess  mass  of  buildings,  which  was 
in  moderate  repair,  from  another,  whi{di  was 
little  better  than  a  ruin.  Bridges  of  wood  and 
bridges  of  brick  crossed  the  stream,  and  gave 
access  to  the  house  from  all  points  of  the  com- 
pass. No  human  creature  appeared  in  the 
neiidiborhood,  and  no  sound  was  heard  but  the 
hoarse  barking  of  a  house-dog  from  an  in- 
visible court-yard. 

"Which  door  shall  I  drive  to.  Sir?"  asked 
the  coachman;  "  the  front  or  the  back  ?"  ' 

"  The  back,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  feeling 
that  the  less  notice  he  attracted  in  Ins  present 
position  the  safer  that  position  might  be. 

The  carnage  tv>'ice  crossed  the  stream  be- 
fore the  coachman  made  his  way  through  the 
grounds  into  a  dreary  inclosure  of  stone.  At 
an  open  door  on  the  inhabited  side  of  the 
5)lace  sat  a  weatiier-beaten  old  man-servant, 
busily  at  work  on  a  halt-finished  model  of  a 
sliip.  He  rose  and  came  to  the  carriage-door, 
lilting  up  his  spectacles  on  his  forehead,  and 
looking  disconcerted  at  the  appearance  of  a 
stranger.  , 

"  Is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  staying  here  V" 
asked  Captain  Wragge. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  rej)lied  the  old  man.  "  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  came  yesterday." 

"  Take  that  card  to  Mr.  Vanstone,  if  you 
please,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  and  say  I  am  wait- 
ing here  to  see  him." 

In  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Noe]g^^anstone  made 
his  appearance,  breathless  and  eager,  absorbed 
in  anxiety  for  news  from  Aldborougli.  Cap- 
tain Wragge  opened  the  carriage-door,  seized 
his  outstretched  hand,  and  pulled  him  in  with- 
out ceremony.         _., 

"  Your  housekeeper  has  gone,"  whispered 
*he  captain.  "  and  you  are  to  be  married  on 
Monday.  Don't  agitate  yourself,  and  don't 
express  your  feelings* —  there  isn't  time  for  it, 
(iet  the  first  active  servant  you  can  find  in 
the  house  to  pack  your  ba<^  in  ten  minutes, 
take  leave  of  the  admiral,  and  come  l)ack 
at  once  with  me  to  the  London  train." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  faintly  attempted  to 
a>k  a  question.  The  captain  declined  to 
hear  it. 

"  As  much  talk  as  you  like  on  the  road,"  he 
said.  "  Time  i.«i  too  precious  for  talking  here. 
How  do  we  know  Lecount  may  not  think 
better  of  it  ?  IJov/  do  we  know  she  may  not 
tmn  back  before  she  acts  to  Zurich  V" 


That  startling   consideration   terrified  Mr. 

Noel  Vanstone  into  instl^  submission. 

"  What  shall    I    say    to    tiie   admiral  ?"  he 
asked,  he'plessly. 

"  Tell  him  you   are  going  to  be  married, 

to  be  sure !     What  does  it  matter  now  Le- 

connt's  back  is  turned"?     If  he  wonders  you 

didn't   tell    him   before,  say  it  's  a   runaway 

match,  and  the  bride  is  waiting  for  you.   Stop! 

Any  letters  addressed  to  you  in  your  absence 

will  be  sent  to  this  place,  of  course  ?     Give 

the  admiral  these  envelopes,  and  tell  him  to 

forward  your   letters  under  cover  to  me.     I 

am  an  old  customer  at  the  hotel  we  are  going 

;  to,  and  if  Ave  find  the  place  full  the  landlord 

!  may  be  depended  on  to  take  care  of  any  let- 

j  t'ers  with  my  name  on  them.     A  safe  address 

[  in  London  lor  your  correspondence  may  be  of 

I  the  greatest  importance.     How  do  we  know 

Lecount  ma}'  not  write  to  you  on  her  way  to 

Zurich  ?" 

i      "  What  a  head  you  have  got !"  cried  Mr. 

t  Noel  Vanstone,  eagerly  taking  the  envt-lopes. 

I  "  You  think  of  everything." 

I      He   left   the  carriage  in   high   e.xcitement, 

and  ran  back  into  the  liouse.     In  ten  minutes 

!  more  Captain   Wragge  had  him  in  safe  cus- 

i  tody,  and  the  horses  started  on  their  return 

!  journey. 

The  travellers  reached  London  in  good  time 
'  that  evening,  and  found  accommodation  at  the 
,  hot'.d. 

i  Knowing  the  restless,  inquisitive  nature  of 
j  the  man  he  had  to  deal  with,  Captain  Wragge  " 
!  had  anticipated  some  little  difficulty  and  em- 
:  barrassment  in  meeting  the  questions  which 
I  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  might  put  to  him  on  the 
i  way  to  London.  To  his  great  relief,  a  star- 
i  tling  domestic  discovery  absorbed  his  travelling 
'  companion's  whole  attention  at  tiie  outset  of 
1  the  journey.  By  some  extraordinary  over- 
\  sight.  Miss  Bygrave  had  been  left,  on  the 
■  eve  of  her  marriage,  unprovided  with  a  maid! 
!  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  declared  that  he  would 
!  take  the  whole  responsibility  of  correcting 
I  this  deficiency  in  the  arrangements  on  his 
,  own  shoulders:  he  would  not  trouble  Mr. 
'  Bygrave  to  give  him  any  assistance;  he  would 
;  confer,  when  they  got  to  their  journey's  end, 
with  the  landlady  of  the  hotel,  and  would 
examine  the  candidates  for  the  vacant  office 
himself.  All  tlie  wa,y  to  London  he  returned 
,  again  and  again  to  tiie  sanie  subject;  all  the 
evening,  at  the  hotel,  he  was  in  and  out  of  the 
landlady's  sitting-room,  until  he  fairly  obliged 
I  her  to  lock  the  door.  In  every  otlier  proceed- 
\  ing  which  related  to  his  marriage  he  had  been 
I  kept  in  the  background;  he  had  been  com- 
;  pelled  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  ingen- 
1  ions  friend.  In  the  matter  of  the  lady'* 
:  maid  he  claimed  his  fitting  position  at  last  — 
1  he  followed  nobody  ;  he  took  the  lead  ! 

I'he  forenoon  of  the  ne.xt  day  was  devoted 

to  obtaining  the  license  —  the   personal  dis- 

'  tinction  of  makiuii  the  declaration   on  oath 


NO  :n"ame. 


181 


being  eagerly  accepted  by  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone, 
who  swore  in  perfect  good  faitli  (on  information 
previously  obtained  from  the  captain)  that  llie 
lady  was  of  age.  The  document  procured,  the 
bridegroom  returned  to  examine  the  characters 
and  qualifications  of  the  women-servants  out 
of  place  whom  the  landlady  had  engaged  to 
summon  to  the  hotel;  -while  Caplain  \Vragge 
turned  his  steps  "  on  business  personal  to  him- 
seh',"  toward  tlie  resi<lcncc  of  a  I'riend  in  a  dis- 
tant quarter  of  London. 

The  captain's  fi  irnd  was  connected  with  the 
law,  and  tlie  captain's  business  was  of  a  two- 
Ibld  nature.  His  first  object  was  to  inform 
himself  of  the  legal  bearings  of  the  approach- 
ing marriage  on  the  future  of  the  husband  and 
the  wife.  His  second  object  was  to  provide 
beforehand  for  destroying  all  traces  of  the 
di'stination  to  whicli  he  might  betake  himself 
when  he  left  Aldborough  on  the  wedding-day. 
Ha\ing  reached  his  end  successfully  in  both 
these  eases  lie  returned  to  the  hotel,  ami  found 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  nursing  his  otl'cnded  dig- 
nity in  the  laiii]lady"s  sitting-room.  Three 
ladies'-maids  luid  ap[)eared  to  pass  tlieir  ex- 
amination, and  had  all,  on  coming  to  the  ijues- 
tion  of  wages,  impudently  declined  accepting 
the  place.  A  fourth  candidate  was  expected 
to  present  herself  on  tiie  next  day  ;  and,  until 
she  made  her  appearance,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
positively  declined  removing  from  the  metroj)- 
olis.  Captain  Wragge  showed  liis  annoyance 
openly  at  the  inineeessarv  ilclay  thus  occasion- 
ed in  the  return  to  Aldborough,  imt  witiiout 
producing  any  eflect.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
shook  his  obstinate  little  head,  and  solemnly 
refused  to  tritle  with  his  responsibilities. 

Tlie  first  event  which  occurred  on  S.-iturday 
morning  was   the   arrival   of  Airs.   Lecount's 
letter  to  her  master,  inclosed  in   one  of  the 
i-nvelopes  which  the  captain  had  addressed  to 
himself.    He  rei-eived  it  (by  previous  arrange- 
ment with  the  waiter)  in  iiis  bedroom,  read  it 
with  the  closest  attention,  and    jiut  it  away 
carefully  in  his  pocket-book.     Tiie  letter  was  j 
ominous  of  sci-ious  events  to  come  when  the  i 
housekeeper  returned  to  England,  and  it  was 
due  to  Magdalen — who  was  the  person  threat-  ! 
ened — to  place  the  warning  of  danger  in  her  ! 
own  possession. 

I.,ater  in  the  day  the  fourth  candidate  ap-  ' 
peared    for    the    maid's    situation  —  a   young  i 
woman    of  small    ex])ectations   and    subdued 
manners,   who   looked    (as   the    landlady   i-e- 
marked)  like  a  i)erson  conversant  with  mis- 
fortunes.   She  passed  the  ordeal  of  examination 
successfully,  and   aceeiited  the  wages  oll'ered 
without  a  murmur.     The  engagement  having 
been  ratificii  on  both  sides,  fresh  delays  ensued',  : 
of  wiiich  I\Ir.  Noel  Vanstone  was  once  more  ■ 
llie  c^use.     He  had  not  yet  made  up  his  mind  i 
whether  he  would  or  would  not  give  more  than 
a  guinea  for  the  wedding-ring;  and  he  wasted 
tlie  rest  of  the  day  to  such  disastrous  purpose, 
in  one  jeweller's  shop  after  another,  tliat  he 
and  the  captain,  and  the  new  lady's-maid  (who  | 


travelled  with  them),  were  barely  in  time  to 
catch  the- last  train  from  London  that  evening. 
It  was  late  at  night  when  they  left  the  rail- 
way at  the  nearest  station  to  Aldborough. 
Captain  Wragge  had  been  strangely  silent  all 
througli  the  vjurney.  His  mind  was  ill  at  ease. 
He  had  left  Magdalen  under  very  critical  cir- 
cumstances, with  no  fit  pei-son  to  control  her, 
and  he  was  wholly  ignorant  of  the  jirogress  of 
events,  in  his  absence,  ac  North  Shingles. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

What  had  happened  at  Aldborough  in  Cap- 
tain W'ragge's  absen(;e  V 

These  were  the  events  that  occurred  IVonj 
the  time  of  liis  departure  to  the  time  of  his 
return : 

As  soon  as  the  chaise  liad  left  North  Shingles 
j\Irs.  A\'ragg»^  received  the  message  which  her 
husband  iiad  charged  the  servant  to  deliver. 
She  hastened  into  the  parlor  bewildered  by  her 
stormy  interview  with  the  captain,  and  peni- 
tently conscious  that  she  had  done  Avrong,  witii- 
out knowing  what  the  wrong  was.  If  Jlagda- 
len's  mind  had  been  unoccupied  by  the  one 
idea  of  t!ie  marriage  which  now  filled  it — if  she 
had  possessed  composui'C  enough  to  listen  to 
Mrs.  Wragge's  rambling  narrative  of  what  had 
happened  (hiring  her  interview  with  the  house- 
keeper— Mrs.  Lecount's  visit  to  the  wardrobe 
must,  sooner  or  later,  have  ibrmed  ]iart  of  the 
disclosure;  and  Magdalen,  although  she  might 
never  ha\e  guessed  the  truth,  must  at  least 
have  been  warned  that  there  was  some  element 
of  danger  lurking  treacherously  in  the  Alpaca 
dress.  As  it  was,  lio  such  consequence  as  this 
followed  ]Mrs.  W'ragge's  appearance  in  the  par- 
lor; for  no  such  consequence  was  now  possible. 

Events  which  had  hap])cncd  earlier  in  the 
morning,  events  wliich  had  happened  for  days 
and  weeks  past,  had  vanislied  as  completely 
from  ]\Iagdalen*s  mind  as  if  they  had  never 
taken  place.  The  horror  of  the  coming  Mon- 
day—  the  mei'ciless  certainty  implied  in  the 
a])pointment  of  the  day  and  hour  —  petrified 
ail  feeling  in  lier,  and  annihilated  all  thought. 
Mrs.  Wragge  made  three  separate  attempts  to 
enter  on  the  subject  of  the  housekeeper's  visit. 
The  first  time  slie  might  as  well  h.-^ve  addressed 
herself  to  the  wind  or  to  the  sea.  The  second 
attempt  seemed  lik<dy  to  l>e  more  successful. 
Magdalen  sighed,  listened  for  a  moment  in- 
dilVerently,  and  then  dismissed  tlie  subject. 
"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said.  "  The  end  has 
come  all  the  same.  I  'm  not  angry  with  you. 
Say  no  more."  Later  in  the  day,  from  not 
knowing  what  else  to  talk  about,  j\lrs.  \^'ragge 
tried  again.  This  time  Magdalen  turned  on 
her  impatiently.  "  For  God's  sake,  don't  worry 
me  ai)out  trifles  I  I  can't  beai-  it."  Mrs. 
\\'ragge  closed  her  lips  on  the  spot,  and  re- 
turned to  tiie  suiiject  no  more.  Magdalen, 
who  had  been  kind  to  her  at  all  other  times. 


182 


NO  NAME. 


had  angrily  forbidtkni  it.  Tlie  oaptain — utter- 
ly ifrnoraut  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  interest  in  tlic 
secrets  of  the  wai-drobe  —  had  never  so  niucli 
as  apprnaehed  it.  All  the  information  that  he 
had  extracted  from  his  wife's  mental  confusion 
he  had  extracted  by  putting  dii-ect  questions 
derived  purely  from  tlie  resources  of  his  own 
knowieilge.  He  had  insisted  on  plain  answers, 
without  excuses  of  any  kind;  he  had  carried 
his  point  as  usual;  and  his  departure  the  same 
morninix  l:;id  left  him  no  chance  of  reopenin<T 
the  question,  even  if  his  irritation  asxainst  his 
wife  had  peimitted  him  to  do  so.  There  tlic 
Alpaca  dress  hung,  neglected  i^n  the  dark — the 
unnoticed,  unsuspected  centre  of  dfingers  that 
were  still  to  come. 

Toward  the  afternoon  ]\Irs.  Wragge  took 
courage  to  start  a  suggestion  of  her  own  — 
she  pleadi'd  for  a  little  turn  in  the  fresh 
air. 

Magdalen  passively  put  on  her  hat ;  pas- 
sively accompanied  her  companion  along  the 
public  walk,  until  they  reached  its  northward 
extremity.  Here  the  beach  was  left  solitary, 
and  here  they  sat  down  side  by  side  on  the 
shingle.  It  was  a  bright,  exhilarating  dav: 
pleasure-boats  were  sailing  on  the  calm  blue 
water;  Aldborough  was  idling  happily  afloat 
and  ashore.  Mrs.  Wragge  recovered  her  j 
spirits  in  the  gayety  of  the  prospect;  she 
amused  herself  like  a  child  by  tossing  peb- 
bles into  the  sea.  From  time  to  time  she 
stole  a  questionitig  glance  at  Magdalen,  and 
saw  no  encouragement  in  her  manner,  no 
change  to  cordiality  in  her  face.  She  sat 
silent  on  the  slope  of  the  shingle,  with  her 
elbow  on  her  knee,  and  her  head  resting  on 
her  hand,  looking  out  over  the  sea  —  looking 
with  a  rapt  attention,  and  yet  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  notice  nothing.  Mrs.  AVragge  wea- 
ried of  the  ])ebbles,  and  lost  her  interest  in 
looking  at  the  pleasure-boats.  Her  great 
liead  began  to  nod  heavily,  and  she  dozed  in 
the  warm,  drowsy  air.  When  she  woke  the 
pleasure-boats  Avere  far  off,  their  sails  were 
white  specks  in  the  distance.  The  idlers  on 
the  beach  were  thinned  in  number;  the  sun 
was  low  in  the  hoavun  ;  the  blue  sea  was 
darker,  and  rippled  by  a  breeze.  Changes 
on  sky,  and  earth,  and  ocean  told  of  the 
waning  day :  change  was  everywhere,  ex- 
cept close  at  her  side.  There  Magdalen  sat 
in  the  same  ])Osition,  v.'ith  weary  eyes  that 
still  looked  over  the  sea,  and  still  saw  noth- 
ing, 

"  Oh,  do  speak  to  me  !  "  said  Mrs.  Wragge. 

Magdalen  started,  and  looked  about  her 
vacantly. 

''  It  's  late,"  she  said,  shivering  under  the 
first  sensation  that  reached  her  of  the  rising 
breeze.     "  Come  home  —  you  want  your  tea." 

They  walked  home  in  silence. 

"  Don't  he  angry  with  me  for  asking,"  said 
Mrs.  Wiagge,  as  they  sat  together  at  the  tea- 
table.  "  Are  you  troubled,  my  dear,  in  your 
mind  ?  " 


"  Yes,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  Don't'notice 
me.     My  trouble  will  soan  be  over." 

She  waited  patiently  until  Mrs.  Wragge 
had  made  an  end  of  the  meal,  and  then  went 
up  stairs  to  her  own  room. 

"  jNIonday ! "  .she  said,  as  she  sat  down  at 
her  toilet-table.  "  Something  may  happen 
before  Monday  comes." 

Her  lingers  Avandered  mechanically  among 
the  brushes  and  combs,  the  tiny  bottles  and 
cases  placed  on  the  table.  She  set  them  in 
order,  now  in  one  way  and  now  in  another 
—  then  on  a  sudden  pushed  them  away  from 
her  in  a  heap.  For  a  minute  or  two  her 
hands  remained  idle.  That  interval  passed 
they  grew  restless  again,  and  pulled  the  two 
little  drawers  in  the  table  backward  and  for- 
ward in  their  grooves.  Among  the  trifles 
laid  in  one  of  them  was  a  Prayer-book  which 
had  belonged  to  her  at  Combe-Raven,  and 
which  she  had  saved  with  her  other  relics  of 
the  past  when  she  and  her  sister  had  taken 
their  farewell  of  home.  She  opened  the 
Prayer-book,  after  a  long  hesitation,  at  the 
Marriage  Service,  shut  it  again  before  she 
had  read  a  'line,  and  put  it  back  hurriedly 
in  one  of  the  drawers.  After  turning  the 
key  in  the  lock  she  rose  and  walked  to  the 
window. 

'•  The^iorribie  sea  !  "  she  said,  turning  from 
it  with  a  shudder  of  disgust.  "  The  lonely, 
dreary,  -horrible  sea  !  " 

She  went  back  to  the  drawer  and  took  the 
Prayer-book  out  for  the  second  time,  half- 
opened  it  again  at  the  Marriage  Service,  and 
impatiently  threw  it  back  into  the  drawer. 
Tiiis  time,  after  turning  the  lock,  she  took  the 
key  away,  walked  with  it  in  her  hand  to  the 
open  window,  and  threw  it  violently  from  her 
into  the  garden.  It  fell  on  a  bed  thickly 
planted  with  flowers.  It  was  invisible:  it 
was  lost.  The  sense  of  its  loss  seemed  to 
relieve  her.     v 

"  Something  may  happen  on  Friday  ;  some- 
thing may  hap'pen  on  Saturday  ;  something 
may  happen  on  Sunday.     Three  days  still !  " 

She  closed  the  green  shutters  outside  the 
window,  and  drew  the  curtains,  to  darken  the 
room  still  more.  Her  head  felt  heavy  ;  her 
eyes  were  burning  hot.  She  threw  herself 
on  her  bed,  with  a  sullen  impulse  to  sleep 
away  the  time. 

The  quiet  of  the  house  helped  her ;  the 
darkness  of  the  room  lielped  her :  the  stupor 
of  mind  into  which  she  had  fallen  had  its 
effect  on  her  senses:  she  dropped  into  a 
broken  sleej).  Her  restless  hands  moved  in- 
cessantly ;  her  head  tossed  from  side  to  side 
of  the  pillow  ;  but  still  she  slept.  Ere  long 
words  fell  by  ones  and  t.wos  from  her  lips  — 
words  whispered  in  her  sleep,  growing  more 
and  more  continuous,  more  and  more  articu- 
late, the  longer  the  sleep  lasted — words  which 
seemed  to  calm  her  restlessness  and  to  hush 
her  into  deeper  repo.?e.  She  smiled  ;  she  was 
in  the  happy  land  of  dreams  —  Frank's  nams 


NO  NAME. 


183 


escaped    ber.      "Do  you  love  mc,  Frank?" 
she    whispered.      "  Oh,    my   darling,    say    it  | 
again  !  say  it  again  !  "  \ 

"The   time  j)a!<seil,   the    room  grew  darker, 
and  still  she  slumbered  and   dreamed.     Tovv-^ 
ard    sunset — witliout   any    noise    inside    the 
house  or  oirt  to  account  lor  it  —  she  started 
up  on  the  bed,  awake   agaiu   in  an   instant. 
Tlie  drowsy  obscurity  of  the  room  struck  her 
with  terror.     She  ran  to  the  window,  pushed  ' 
open  the  shutters,  and  leaned  tar  out  into  the 
evening  air  and  the  evening  liglit.     ller  eyes 
devoured  the  trivial  sights  on  the  beach;  her  | 
cars  drank  in  tlie  welcome  murmur  of  the  sea.  | 
Anytliing  to  deliver  her  from  tlie  waking  im-  ] 
prcssions  which  her  dieams  had  left !    No  more  I 
darkness;  no  more  rei)ose.     Sleep  that  came 
mercil'ully  to   others   came    treacherously   to  | 
her.     Sleep  had  only  closed  her  eyes  on  the 
futurd  to  open  them  on  tlie  past. 

She  went  down  again  into  the  parlor  eager  ' 
to  talk — no  matter  how  idly,  no  matter  on  j 
what  trilles.     Tiie   room    wa.s  empty.      Per-  ' 
Imps  Mrs.   Wragge   liail  gone  to   lier   work  ;  | 
j)erhaps  she  was  too  tired  to  talk.     Magdalen  j 
took   her   liat  from   tiie   table  and   went  out.  ' 
The  8ea  tliat  she  had  shrunk  from  a  few  hours 
since  looked    Iriondly    now.     How    lovely    it 
was  in  its  cool  evening  blue  !     What  a  god- 
like joy  in  the  ha])py  nmltitude  of  waves  leap- 
ing uj)  to  the  light  ot  heaven  ! 

She  staid  out  until  the  night  fell  and  the 
stars  appeared.     The  night  steadied  her. 

By  slow  degrees  her  mind  rei-overed  its 
balance,  and  she  Jucked  her  ])osition  untlinch- 
ingly  in  the  face.  The  vain  hojie  tiiat  acci- 
dent might  defeat  tlie  very  end  lor  which  of 
her  own  I'ree-will  she  had  ceaselessly  ])lotted 
and  toiled  vanished  and  left  her,  selt-dissi- 
pated  in  its  own  weakne!^s.  She  knev/  the 
true  alternative,  and  faced  it.  On  one  side 
was  the  revolting  ordeal  of  the  marriage  ;  on 
ilie  other  the  abandonment  of  her  purjwse. 
Was  it  too  late  to  choose  bet wein  the  sacrifice 
of  the  pur))ose  and  the  sacrifice  of  herself? 
Yes!  too  latt'.  The  backward  path  had  closed 
behind  her.  Time,  that  no  wish  conld  change, 
Time,  that  no  prayers  could  recall,  had  made 
her  purpose  a  j)art  of  her.self:  once  she  had 
governed  it;  now  it  governed  her.  The  more 
she  shrank,  thv  harder  she  struggled,  the  more 
mercilessly  it  drove  her  on.  No  other  feeling 
in  lier  was  strong  enough  to  master  it  —  not 
even  the  horror  that  was  maddening  her  — 
the  liorior  of  her  marriage. 

Toward  nine  o'clock  she  went  back  to  the 
house. 

"  Walking  again  I"  said  ^Irs.  AVraggc,  meet- 
ing her  at  the  door.  '  Come  in  and  sit  down, 
my  dear.     How  tired  you  nnnst  be  I" 

Magtialen  smihd,  and  patted  Mrs.  Wragge 
kindly  on  the  shoulder. 

••  You  1'orget  how  strong  I  am,"  she  said. 
"  Nothing  iiurfs  me." 

She  lit  her  candle,  and  wmt  up  stairs  again 
into  hur  room.      As  she  returned  to  the  old 


place  by  her  toilet-table,  the  vain  hope  in  the 
three  days  of  delay,  the  vain  hope  of  deliver- 
ance by  accident,  came  back  to  her — this  time 
in  a  form  more  tangible  than  the  form  which 
it  h;id  liitherto  worn. 

"  Friday,  Saturday,  Sunday.  Something 
may  happi-n  to  him ;  something  may  happen 
tome.  Something  serious  —  something  fatal. 
One  of  us  may  die  !" 

A  sudden  change  came  over  her  face.  She 
shivered,  though  there  was  no  cold  in  the  air; 
she  started,  though  there  was  no  noise  to  alarm 
her. 

"  One  of  us  may  die  I     I  may  be  tlie  one  !' 
She  fell  into  deep  thought —  roused  herself 
:\i\vv  a  while  —  and,  opening  the  door,  called 
to  Mrs.  Wragge  to  come  and  spe;ik  to  lier. 

"Y<m  were  right  in  tiiinking  I  slunild  latiguc 
myself,"  she  said.  "  My  walk  has  been  a  little 
too  much  for  me.  I  teel  tired,  a?id  I  am  go- 
ing to  bed.  Good-night."  Siie  kissed  Mia. 
Wragge,  and  sofily  closed  the  door  again. 

Alter  a  tew  turns  backward  and  forward  in 
the  room,  she  abruptly  opened  her  writing- 
ease  and  began  a  letter  lo  her  aistt-r.  The 
letter  grew  anil  grew  under  her  hands;  sh*; 
filled  sheet  after  sheet  of  note-paper.  Her 
heart  was  full  of  her  subject:  it  was  her  own 
story  addressed  to  Norah.  She  shed  no  tears; 
she  was  composed  to  a  rjuiet  sadness.  Her 
pen  ran  smoothly  on.  Alter  writing  for  more 
than  two  hours,  she  left  oil'  while  the  letter 
was  still  unfinished.  There  was  no  signatunr 
attached  to  it — there  was  a  blank  si);ice  le- 
served,  to  be  filled  up  at  some  other  lime. 
Afti'r  putting  away  the  case,  with  the  sheets 
ot"  writing  secured  inside  it,  she  walked  lo  the 
window  for  air,  and  stootl  there  looking  out. 

The  moon  was  waning  over  the  sea.  The 
breeze  of  the  earlier  hours  hail  died  out.  On 
earth  and  ocean  the  spirit  of  the  Night  brood- 
ed in  a  deep  and  awful  calm. 

Her  head  droo]>ed  low  on  her  bosom,  and 
\  all  the  view  waned  before  her  eyes  with  the 
I  waning  moon.  She  saw  no  sea,  no  sky. 
Death,  the  Temjitcr,  was  busy  at  her  heart; 
\  Death,  the  Tempter,  pointed  homeward  to  the 
grave  of  her  dead  parents  in  Combe-Uaven 
I  church-yard. 

"  Nineteen    last    birthday,"   she   thought — 

;  -'only  nineteen  !"     She  moved  away  from  the 

I  window,  liesitated.  and  then  lodked  out  again 

at  the  view.     ''The  lnvTuiil'nl  niglitl"  she  said, 

gratefully  ;  "oh.  the  beauliful  night!" 

She  left  the  winilow  and  lay  down  on  her 
1  bed.  Sleep  that  had  come  treacherously  be- 
fore came  meriilully  now  —  came  deep  and 
I  dreamless,  the  image  of  her  last  waking 
j  thought— the  imajiv!  of  Dealli. 

1 

j  Early  the  next  morning  ^Mrs.  Wragge  went 
!  into  Magdalen's  ro<im,  and  found  that  she  had 
1  risen  betimes.  She  was  sitting  before  the 
1  glass,  drawing  the  comb  slo\yly  llnough  and 
throngii  her  iiair,  thoughtful  ami  (juiel. 

"  How  do  )ou  feel  this  morning,  my  dear?" 


184 


NO  NAME. 


asked  Mrs.   AVragsje.     "  Quite   well   actain  ?" 

"Yes." 

After  re])!ying  in  the  afiirmative,  she  stop- 
ped, considered  for  a  moment,  and  suddeidy 
contradicted  herself.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  not 
quite  well.  I  am  suffering  a  little  from  tooth- 
ache." As  she  altered  her  first  answer  in 
those  words  site  gave  a  twist  to  h:r  hair  with 
the  comb,  so  that  it  fell  forward  and  hid  her 
face. 

At  breakfast  she  was  very  silent,  and  she 
took  nothing  but  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Let  rae  go  to  the  chemist's  and  get  some- 
thing," said  Mrs.  Wragge. 

"  No.  thank  you." 

"  Do  let  me  !" 

"No!" 

She  refused  for  the  second  time,  sharply 
and  angrily.  As  usual,  Mrs.  Wragge  snljmit- 
ted,  and  let  her  have  her  own  way.  When 
breakfast  was  over  she  rose,  without  a  word 
of  explanation,  and  went  out.  Mrs.  Wragge 
watched  her  irom  the  window,  and  saw  that 
she  took  the  direction  of  the  chemist's  shop. 

On  reaching  the  ciiemist's  door  she  stopped 
— paused,  before  entering  the  shop,  and  looked 
in  at  the  window — hesitated,  and  walked  away 
a  little  —  hesitated  again,  and  took  the  first 
turning  Avhieh  led  back  to  the  beach. 

^Vithout  looking  about  her,  without  caring 
what  place  she  chose,  she  seated  herself  on  the 
shingle.  The  only  pensons  who  were  near  to 
her,  in  the  position  she  now  occupied,  were  a 
nurse-maid  and  two  little  boys.  The  young- 
est of  the  two  had  a  iiny  toyship  in  his  hand. 
After  looking  at  AJagdalen  for  a  little  while 
with  the  quaintesi^ravity  and  attention,  the 
boy  suddenly  approaclied  licr,  and  opened  the 
way  to  an  acf^uaintance  by  putting  his  toy 
com])ose(lIy  on  her  lap. 

"  Look  at  my  ship,"  said  tlie  child,  crossing 
his  hands  on  Magdalen's  knee. 

She  was  not  usually  j)atient  with  children. 
In  hap[)ier  days  she  would  not  have  met  the 
boy's  advance  toward  her  as  she  met  it  now. 
The  hard  despair  in  her  eyes  left  them  sud- 
denly, her  fast-closed  lips  parted  and  trembled. 
She  put  the  ship  back  into  the  child's  hands, 
and  lifted  him  on  her  lap. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  kiss  V'she  said,  faintly. 

The  boy  looked  at  his  ship  as  if  he  would 
rather  have  kissed  the  ship. 

She  repeated  the  question,' repeated  it  al- 
most humbly.  The  child  put  Isis  hand  up  to 
her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  If  I  was  your  sister,  would  you  love  me?" 

All  the  misery  of  her  friendless  position,  all 
the  wasted  tenderness  of  her  heart,  poured 
from  her  in  those  words. 

"  Would  you  lo^'e  me  ?"  she  repeated, 
hiding  her  face  on  the  bosom  of  the  child's 
frock. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy.     ''  Look  at  my  ship." 

She  looked  at  the  ship  through  her  gather- 
ing tears. 

•'What  do  you  call  it?"  she.  asked,  trying 


I  hard-to  find  her  way  even  to  the  interest  of  a 

j  child. 

"  I  call  it  LTncle  Kirke's  sliip,"  said  the  boy. 
"  Uncle  Kirke  has  gone  awa}'." 

I      The  name  recalled  nothing  to  her  memory. 

,  No  remembrances  but  old  remembrances  lived 

I  in  her  now.    "  Gone  ?"  she  repeifted  absently, 

;  thinking   what   she  should   say  to  her  little 

I  friend  ne.xt. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy.     "  Gone  to  China." 
Even   from   the   lips  of  a  child   that  word 
struck  her  to  the  heart.    She  put  Kirke's  little 
nephew  off   her   lap,   and  instantly  left  the 
beach. 

As  she  turned  back  to  the  house  the  strug- 
gle of  the  past  night  i-enewed  itself  in  her 
mind.  But  the  sense  of  relief  which  the  child 
had  bronglit  to  her,  the  reviving  tenderness 
which  she  had  felt  while  he  sat  on  her  knee, 
influen<'ed  her  still.  She  was  consciolis  of  a 
dawning  hope  opening  freshly  on  !i"r  thoughts, 
as  the  boy  s  innocent  eyes  had  opene<l  on  her 
face  when  he  came  to  her  on  the  beach.  Was 
it  too  late  to  turn  back?  Once  moi'e  she  asked 
herself  that  question,  and  now  lor  the  first; 
tipie  she  asked  it  in  doubt. 

She  ran  up  to  her  own  room  with  a  lurking 
distrust  in  her  changed  self,  which  warned  her 
to  act,  and  not  to  think.  Without  waiting  to 
remove  her  shawl  or  to  take  off  her  hat  she 
opened  her  writing-case,  and  addressed  these 
lines  to  (/aptain  Wragge,  as  fast  as  her  pen 
could  trace  them  :  • 

"  You  will  find  the  money  I  promised  you 
inclosed  in  this.  My  resolution  has  failed  me. 
The  horror  of  marrying  him  is  more  than  I 
can  face.  I  have  left  Aldborougli.  Pity  my 
weakness,  and  forget  me.  Let  us  never  meet 
again." 

With  throbbing  heart,  with  eager,  trembling 
fingers,  she  drew  her  little  wliite  silk  bag  from 
her  bosom,  and  took  out  the  bank-notes  to  in- 
close them  in  the  letter.  Her  hand  searched 
impetuously;  her  hand  had  lost  its  discrimi- 
nation of  touch.  She  grasped  the  whole  con- 
tents of  the  bag  in  one  handful  of  papers,  and 
drew  them  out  violently,  tearing  some  rnd 
disarranging  the  folds  of  others.  As  she  threw 
them  down  before  her  on  the  table  the  first 
object  that  met  her  eye  was  her  own  hand- 
writing, faded  already  with  time.  She  looked 
closer,  and  saw  the  words  she  had  copied  from 
her  dead  father's  letter  —  saw  the  lawyer's 
brief  and  terrible  commentary  on  them  con- 
fronting her  at  the  bottom  of  the  page': 

Mr.  Vans/one's  daughters  are  Nobody^s  Chil- 
dren, and  the  law  leaven  them  helpless  at  their 
uncle's  mercy. 

Her  throbbing  heart  stopped,  her  trembling 
hands  grew  icily  quiet.  All  the  Past  rose 
before  her  in  mute,  overwhelming  reproach. 
She  took  up  the  lines  which  her  own  hand 
had  written  hardly  a  minute  since,  and  looked 
at  the  ink  still  wet  on  the  letters  with  a  vacant 
incredulity. 

The   color   that  had  risen   on   her  cheeks 


NO  NAME. 


185 


failed  from  them  once  more.  The  hard  despair 
looked  out  again,  cohl  and  glittering,  in  her 
tearless  eyes."  She  folded  the  bank-notes  care- 
fully, ami  put  them  back  in  her  bag.  She 
pressed  the  copy  of  her  father's  letter  to  her 
lips,  and  returned  it  to  its  place,  with  the 
bank-uotes.  When  the  bag  was  in  her  bosom 
again,  she  waited  a  little,  wi'th  her  face  hidden 
in  her  hands,  then  deliberately  tore  up  the 
lines  addressed  to  Captain  Wragge.  Before 
the  ink  was  dry  the  letter  lay  in  fragments  on 
the  floor. 

"No!"  she  said,  as  the  last  morsel  of  the 
torn  jiaper  dropped  from  her  hand.  "  On  the 
way  1  go  there  is  no  turning  back." 

Slie  rose  composedly  and  left  the  room. 
While  descending  the  stairs  she  met  Mrs. 
Wragge  coming  up.  "  Going  out  again,  my 
dear  y"  asked  JSlrs.  Wragge.  "May  1  go  with 
yon  ■?" 

Magdalen's  attention  wandered.  Instead  of 
answering  the  question,  she .  absently  an- 
swered her  own  thoughts. 

•*  Thousands  of  women  marry  for  money," 
slie  said.     "  Why  shouldn't  I?" 

The  helpless  perplexity  of  Mrs.  Wragge's 
face  as  she  spoke  those  Avords  roused  her  to  a 
sense  of  present  things. 

"My  poor  dear!"  she  said,  "I  puzzle  you, 
don't  I  ?  Never  mind  what  I  say  — all  girls 
talk  nonsense ;  and  I  'm  no  better  than  the 
rest  of  them.  Come !  I  '11  give  you  a  treat. 
You  shall  enjoy  yourself  while  the  captain  's 
away.  W^e  will  have  a  long  drive  by  our- 
«elvi^s.  Futon  your  smart  bonnet,  and  come 
with  me  to  the  hotel.  I  '11  tell  the  landlady  to 
put  a  nice  cold  dinner  into  a  basket.  You 
shall  have  all  the  things  you  like,  and  I  "11 
wait  on  you.  Wlien  you  are  an  old,  old 
woman,  you  will  remember  mc  kindly,  won't 
you  ?  You  will  say,  '  She  wasn't  a  bad  girl ; 
hundred.s  worse  than  she  was  live  and  prosper, 
and  nobody  blames  them.'  There  !  there  !  go 
and  put  your  bonnet  on.  Oh,  my  God,  what 
is  my  heart  made  of!  How  it  lives  and  lives, 
when  other  girls'  hearts  would  have  died  in 
them  long  ago !" 

In  hall  an  hour  more  she  and  Mrs.  Wragge 
were  seated  together  in  the  carriage.  One  of 
tlie  horses  was  restive  at  starting.  "  Flog 
him,"  she  cried,  angril)-,  to  the  driver.  "  What 
are  you  frightened  about?  Flog  him!  Sup- 
pose the  carriage  was  upset,"  she  said,  turning 
Buddenl)'  to  her  companion;  "and  suppose  I 
was  thrown  out  and  killed  on  the  spot  ^  Non- 
sense !  don't  look  at  me  in  that  way.  I  'm 
like  your  husband;  I  have  a  dash  of  humor, 
and  I  'm  only  joking." 

Tiicy  were  out  the  whole  day.  When  they 
reacln;d  home  again,  it  was  after  dark.  The 
long  succession  ol"  hours  passed  in  the  fresh 
air  kit  them  both  with  the  same  sense  of 
fatigue.  Again  that  night  Magdalen  slept  the 
deep,  <lreamless  sleep  of  the  night  before. 
Ana  so  the  Friday  closed. 


Her  last  thought  at  night  bad  been  the 
thought  which  had  sustained  her  throughout 
the  day.  She  had  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow 
with  the  same  reckless  resolution  to  submit  to 
the  coming  trial  which  had  already  expressed 
itself  in  words  when  she  and  Mrs.  Wragge 
met  by  accident  on  the  stairs.  When  she 
woke  on  the  morning  of  Saturday-  the  resolu- 
tion was  gone.  The  Friday's  thoi;ghts  —  the 
Friday's  events  even — were  blotted  out  of  her 
mind.  Once  again,  creeping  chill  through  the 
flow  of^her  young  blood,  she  felt  the  slow  and 
deadly  prompting  of  despair  which  had  come 
to  her  in  the  waning  moonlight,  which  had 
whispered  to  her  in  the  awful  calm. 

"  I  saw  the  end  as  the  end  must  be,"  she 
said  to  herself,  "  on  Thursday  night.  I  have 
been  wrong  ever  since." 

When  sne  and  her  companion  met  that 
morning  she  reiterated  her  complaint  of  suf- 
fering ii  om  the  toothache ;  she  repeated  her 
refusal  to  allow  Mrs.  Wragge  to  procure  a 
remedy;  she  left  the  house  after  breakfast,  in 
the  direction  of  the  chemist's  shop,  exactly  as 
she  had  left  it  on  the  morning  before. 

This  time  she  entered  the  shop  without  an 
instant's  hesitation. 

"  I  have  got  an  attack  of  toothache,"  she 
said,  abruptly,  to  an  elderly  man  who  stood 
behind  the  counter. 

"  May  I  look  at  the  tooth.  Miss  ?" 

"  There  is  no  necessity  to  look.  It  is  a 
hollow  tooth.  I  think  I  have  caught  cold  in 
it." 

The  chemist  recommended  various  remedies 
which  were  in  vogue  fifteen  years  since.  She 
declined  purchasing  any  of  them. 

"  I  have  always  found  laudanum  relieve  the 
pain  better  than  anything  else,"  she  said, 
trifling  with  the  bottles  on  the  counter,  and 
looking  at  them  while  she  spoke,  instead  of 
looking  at  the  chemist.  "  Let  me  have  some 
laudanum." 

"  Certainly,  Miss.  Excuse  my  asking  the 
question — it  is  only  a  matter  of  form.  Y'ou 
are  staying  at  Aldborough,  I  think  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  am  Miss  Bvgrave,  of  North  Shin- 
gles." 

The  chemist  bowed;  and,  turning  to  his 
shelves,  filled  an  ordinary  half-ounce  bottle 
with  laudanum  immediately.  In  ascertaining 
his  customer's  name  and  address  beforehand 
the  owner  of  the  shop  had  taken  a  precaution 
which  was  natural  to  a  careful  man,  but 
which  was  by  no  means  universal,  under  simi- 
lar circumstances,  in  the  state  of  the  law  at 
that  time.  , 

"Shall  I  put  you  up  a  little  cotton -wool 
with  the  laudanum  ?"  he  asked,  after  he  had 
placed  a  label  on  the  bottle,  and  had  written 
a  word  on  it  in  large  letters. 

"  If  you  please.  What  have  you  just  writ- 
ten on  the  bottle?  She  put  the  question 
sharj)ly,  with  something  of  distrust  as  well-as 
cuiiosity  in  her  manner. 


24 


186 


NO  NAIME. 


The  chemist  answered  the  question  by  turn- 
ing the  label  toward  her.  She  saw  written  on 
it,  in  large  letters — Poison.  ■ 

"I  like  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  Miss,"  said 
the  old  man,  smiling.  "  Very  worthy  people 
in  other  respects  are  often  sadly  careless 
where  poisons  are  concerned." 

She  began  trifling  again  with  the  bottles  on 
the  count'er,  and  put  another  question,  with 
an  ill-concealed  an.xiety  to  hear  the  answer. 

"Is  there  danger,"  she  asked,  "in  such  a 
little  drop  of  laudanum  as  that?" 

"  There  is  Death  in  it,  Miss,"  replied  the 
chemist,  quietly. 

"  Deatli  to  a  child,  or  to  a  penson  in  delicate 
health  '?" 

"  Death  to  the  strongest  man  in  England, 
let  him  be  who  he  may." 

With  that  answer  the  chemist  sealed  up  the 
bottle  in  its  wrapping  of  white  paper,  and 
handed  the  laudanum  to  Magdalen  across  the 
counter.  She  laughed  as  she  took  it  from  him 
and  paid  for  it. 

"  There  will  be  no  fear  of  accidents  at 
North  Sliingles,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  keep  the 
bottle  locked  up  in  my  dressing-case.  If  it 
doesn't  relieve  the  pain,  I  must  come  to  you 
again  and  try  some  other  remedy.  Good- 
morning." 

"  Good-morning,  Miss." 

She  went  straight  back  to  the  house  without 
once  looking  up  —  without  noticing  any  one 
who  passed  her.  She  brushed  by  Mrs.  Wragge 
iu  the  passage  as  she  might  have  brushed  by 
a  piece  of  furniture.  She  ascended  the  stairs, 
and  caught  her  foot  twice  in  her  di'ess  from 
sheer  inattention  to  the  common  precaution  of 
holding  it  up.  The  trivial  daily  interests  of 
life  had  lost  their  hold  on  her  already. 

In  the  privacy  of  her  own  room  she  took 
the  bottle  I'rom  its  wrapping,  and  threw  the 
paper  and  the  cotton-wool  into  the  fireplace. 
At  the  moment  when  she  did  this  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  door.  She  hid  the  little  bottle, 
and  looked  up  impatiently.  Mrs.  Wriifgge 
came  into  the  room. 

"  Have  you  got  something  for  your  tooth- 
ache, mv  dear  ?" 

"Yes'."  _  '    '     ^ 

"  Can  I  do  anything  to  help  you  ?" 

"No." 

Mrs.  Wragge  still  lingered  uneasily  near 
the  door.  Her  manner  showed  plainly  thajt 
8he  had  something  more  to  say. 

"What  is  it  ?"  asked  Magdaleii,  sharply. 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  I 
am  not  settled  in  my  mhid  about  the  captain. 
Ue  's  a  great  writer  —  and  he  hasn't  written. 
lie'  's  as  quick  as  lightning  —  and  he  hasn't 
come  back.  Here  's  Saturday,  and  no  signs 
Orf\hlm.  Has  he  run  awa}^  do  you  think  ? 
Has  anything  happened  to  him?" 

"  I  should  think  not.  Go  down  stairs  ;  I  '11 
come  and  speak  to  you  about  it  directly." 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone  again  Magdalen 
rose  from  her  chair,  advanced  toward  a  cup- 


board in  the  room  which  locked,  and  paused 
for  a  moment,  with  her  hand  on  the.  key,  in 
doubt.  Mrs.  Wragge's  appearance  had  dis- 
turbed the  whole  current  of  her  thoughts. 
LIrs.  Wragge's  last  question,  trifling  as  it  was, 
had  checked  her  on  the  verge  of  the  preci- 
pice—  had  roused  the  old  vain  hope  in  her 
once  more  of  release  by  accident. 

"  Wh}^  not  ?"  she  said.  *'  Why  may  some- 
thing not  have  happened  to  one  of  them  ?" 

She  placed  the  laudanum  in  the  cupboard^ 
locked  it,  and  put  the  key  in  her  pocket 
"  Time  enough  still,"  she  thought,  "  before 
Monday.  I  '11  wait  till  the  captain  comes 
back." 

After  some  consultation  down  stairs  it  was 
agreed  that  the  servant  should  sit  up  thait 
night  in  expectation  of  her  master's  return. 
The  day  passed  quietly,  without  events  of 
any  kind.  Magdalen  di-eamed  away  the  hours 
over  a  book.  A  weary  patience  of  expecta- 
tion was  all  she  felt  now  —  the  poignant  tor- 
ment of  thought  was  dulled  and  blunted  at 
last.  She  passed  the  day  and  the  evening  in 
the  parlor,  vaguely  conscious  of  a  strange  feel- 
ing of  aversion  to  going  back  to  her  own  room. 
As  the  night  advanced,  as  the  noises  ceased 
indoors  and  out,  her  restlessness  began  to  re- 
turn. She  endeavored  to  quiet  herself  by 
reading.  Books  failed  to  fix  her  attention. 
The  newspaper  was  lying  in  a  corner  of  the 
room  ;  she  tried  the  newspaper  next. 

She  looked  mechanically  at  the  headings  of 
the  articles ;  she  listlessly  turned  over  page 
after  page,  until  her  wandering  attention  was 
arrested  by  the  narrative  of  an  execution  in  a 
distant  part  of  England.  Tiiere  was  nothing 
to  strllce  her  in  the  story  of  the  crime,  and  yet 
she  read  it.  It  was  a  common,  horribly  com- 
mon, act  of  bloodshed  —  the  murder  of  a  wo- 
man in  farm-service  by  a  man  iu  the  same 
employment  who  was  jealous  of  her.  He  had 
been  convicted  on  no  extraordinary  evidence; 
he  had  been  hanged  under  no  unusual  circum- 
stances. He  had  made  his  confession,  when 
he  knew  there  was  no  hope  for  him,  like  other 
criminals  of  his  class;  and  the  newspaper  had 
printed  it  at  the  end  of  the  article,  in  these 
terms : 

1  kopt  company  with  the  deceascii  for  a  year  or  there- 
abouts. I  said  I  would  marry  her  when  1  had  money 
enough.  She  said  1  liad  money  enongh  now.  We  had  n 
quarrel.  Slie  refused  to  walk  out  with  nie  any  more:  sho 
wouldn't  draw  mo  my  heer;  she  took  up  with  nij  fellow- 
servant,  David  Crouch.  I  went  to  her  on  the  Saturday  and 
said  I  would  marry  her  a«  soon  as  wc  could  be  asked  in 
church,  if  she  would  give  up  Crouch.  Slie  laughed  at  me. 
Sho  turned  me  out  of  the  wash-house,  and  the  rest  of  them 
saw  her  turn  me  out.  1  wiis  not  easy  in  my  mind.  1  went 
and  sat  on  a  gate  —  the  gate  in  the  meadow  they  call  Pet- 
tit's  Piece.  I  thouglit  l  would  shoot  her.  1  went  and 
fetched  my  gim  and  loaded  it.  I  went  out  into  Pettit'a 
Piece  again.  1  was  hard  put  to  it  to  make  up  my  mind. 
I  thought  I  would  try  my  luck  —  I  mean  try  whether  to 
kill  her  or  not — by  throwiivg  up  the  Spud  of  the  plough  into 
the  air.  I  said  to  myself,  if  it  ialls  flat.  1  11  spare  her;  if  it 
falls  point  in  the  earth,  I  'il  kill  her.  I  took  a  good  swing 
with  it  and  shied  it  \ip.  It  lell  point  in  the  earth.  I  went 
and  shot  her.  It  w-as  a  bad  job,  but  I  did  it.  I  did  it,  as 
they  said  I  did  it  at  the  tri.-il.  1  hope  the  Lord  will  have 
mercy  on  me.  1  wi«h  my  mother  to  have  my  old  clothes. 
I  have  no  more  to  sa/. 


NO  NAME. 


187 


In  the  happier  days  of  her  life  Magdalen 
would  have  passed  over  the  narrative  of  the 
execution,  and  the  printed  confession  which 
accompanied  it,  unread  — the  subject  woukl 
have  failed  to  attract  her.  She  read  the  hor- 
rible story  now  — read  it  with  an  interest  un- 
intelliffibie  to  herself.  Her  attention,  which 
had  wandered  over  higher  and  better  thin-x?, 
followed  every  sentence  of  the  murderer's 
hideously  direct  confession  from  beginning  to 
end.  If  the  man  or  the  woman  had  been 
known  to  her — if  the  place  had  been  familiar 
to  4icr  memory — she  could  hardly  have  fol- 
lowed the  narrative  more,  closely,  or  iiave  felt 
a  more  distinct  impression  of  it  left  on  her 
mind.  She  laid  down  the  paper,  wondering 
at  herself;  she  took  it  up  once  more  and  tried 
to  read  some  other  portion  of  the  contents. 
The  elTort  was  useless;  her  attention  wan- 
dered again.  She  threw  the  paper  away  and 
went  out  into  the  garden.  The  night  was 
daj'k,  the  stars  were  few  aiul  faint.  She  could 
just  see  the  gravel-walk  —  she  could  just  pace 
it  backward  and  forward  between  the  house- 
door  and  the  gate. 

The  confession  in  the  newspaper  had  taken 
a  fearful  hold  on  her  mind.  As  she  paced  the 
walk  (he  black  night  opened  over  tlie  sea,  and 
showed  her  the  mnrdt'rer  in  the  field  Imrling 
the  Spud  of  the  plough  into  the  air.  She  ran, 
shuddering,  back  to  the  house.  The  murder- 
er followed  her  into  the  parlor.  She  seized 
the  candle  and  went  uj)  into  her  room.  Tlie 
vision  of  her  own  distempered  fancy  followed 
ber  to  the  place  where  the  laudanum  was  hid- 
den, and  vanished  there. 

It  was  midnight,  and  there  was  no  sign  yet 
of  the  captain's  return. 

She  took  from  the  writing-case  tlie  long  let- 
ter which  she  had  written  to  Norah,  and  slow- 
ly reail  it  through.  The  letter  (juieted  her. 
When  she  reached  tlie  blank  space  leil  at  the 
end  she  hurriedly  turned  back  and  began  it 
over  again. 

One  o'clock  struck  from  the  church-clock, 
and  still  the  captain  never  a|)peared. 

She  read  the  letter  for  the  second  time: 
she  turned  back  obstinately,  despairingly,  and 
began  it  tor  the  third  time.  As  slie  once  more 
reached  the  last  page  she  looked  at  her  watch. 
It  was  a  (juartcr  to  two.  She  had  just  put 
the  watch  back  in  the  belt  of  her  dress  win  n 
there  came  to  her — far  olF  in  the  stillness  of 
the  morning — a  sound  of  wheels. 

She  dropped  the  letter,  and  clasped  her 
cold  hands  in  her  lap  and  listened.  The 
sound  came  on  faster  and  faster,  iiearer  and 
nearer  —  the  trivial  .sound  to  all  other  ears  ; 
the  sound  of  Doom  to  hers. .  It  passed  the 
side  of  the  house  ;  it  travelled  a  little  farther 
on;  it  stopped.  She  heard  a  loud  knocking — 
then  the  opening  of  a  window  —  then  voices — 
then  a  long  silence  —  tiien  the  wheels  again, 
coming  bai  k  —  then  the  opening  of  the'door 
below,  and  the  sound  of  the  captain's  voice  in 
the  passage. 


She  could  endure  it  no  longer.  She  opened 
her  door  a  little  way  and  called  to  him. 

He  run  up  stairs  instantly,  astonished  that 
she  was  not  in  bed.  She  spoke  to  him  through 
the  narrow  opening  of  the  door,  keeping  her- 
self hidden  bidiind  it,  for  she  was  afraid  to  let 
him  see  her  face. 

"  Has  anything  gone  wrong?"  she  asked. 

"Make  your  mind  easy,"  he  answered. 
"  Nothing  has  gone  wrong." 

''Is  no  accident  likely  to  happen  between 
this  and  Monday  V" 

"  None  whatever.  The  marriage  is  a  cer- 
taintv." 

"A  certainty?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Good-night." 

Sln5  put  her  hand  out  through  the  door. 
He  took  it  with  some  little  surjirise ;  it  wa3 
not  often  in  his  experience  that  she  gave  him 
her  hand  of  her  own  accord. 

"  You  have  sat  up  too  long,"  he  said,  as  he 
felt  the  clasp  of  her  cold  fingers.  "  I  am 
afraid  you  will  have  a  bad  night  —  I  'm  afraid 
you  will  not  .sleep." 

She  softly  closed  the  door. 

"I  sliall  sleep,"  she  said,  "sounder  than  yon 
think  for."' 

It  was  past  two  o'clock  when  she  shut  her- 
self up  alone  in  her  room.  Her  chair  stood  in 
its  customary  place  by  the  toilet-table.  She 
sat  down  for  a  few  minutes  thoughtfully  — 
then  opened  her  letter  to  Norah,  and  turned 
to  the  end,  where  the  blank  space  was  left. 
The  last  lines  wiittcn  above  the  space  ran 
thus : 

I  have  Iiiii]  my  wliulo  licait  bare  to  you:  I  have  liiiUlcn 
notliing.  It  ha,s  conio  to  this.  The  end  I  liave  toiled  lor, 
at  such  tcrriblo  eost  to  uiys-elf.  is  an  cud  ivhicii  I  must 
n'acli.  or  die.  It  is  \viLUe4iiie.ss,  madness  wliat  you  will  — 
but  it  is  so.  There  are  now  two  journeys  before  mu  to 
choose  between.  If  1  can  marry  him  —  tlie  journey  to  the 
cimrch.  If  tho  profanation  of  myself  is  more  than  J  can 
bear — the  journey  to  the  grave! 

Under  that  last  sentence  she  wrote  these 
lines: 

I*Ty  choice  is  made.     If  (lie  ciucl  law  will  let  you.  \ny  m« 
Willi  my  father  and  mother  in  the  church  yard  at  home. 
I'arewcil,  my  love!     lie  always  innocent;  be  always  Imp-     . 
[ly.     If  Frank  ever  asks  about  me  say  1  died  forgiving'him. 
Don't  grievo  long  for  me,  Norah — 1  am  not  worth  it. 

She  sealed  the  letter  and  addre.<?ed  it  to  her 
sister.  The  tears  gathered  in  her  ej-es  as  she 
laid  it  on  the  table.  She  »aited  until  her 
sight  was  clear  again,  and  then  took  the  bank- 
notes once  more  from  the  little  bag  in  her 
bosom.  Afti'r  wra[)ping  them  in  a  sheet  of 
note-paper,  she  wrote  Cajitain  Wragge's  name 
on  the  inclosure,  and  added  these  words  below 
it :  "  Lock  the  door  of  my  room,  and  leave  me 
till  my  sister  comes.  The  money  I  promised 
you  is  in  this.  You  are  not  to  blame ;  it  is 
my  faidt,  and  mine  only.  If  you  have  any 
friendly  remembrance  of  me,  be  kind  to  your 
wife  (or  my  sake." 

After  i)lacing  the  inclosure  by  the  letter  to 
Norah,  she  rose  and  looked  round  the  room. 


188 


NO  NAME. 


Some  few  little  things  in  it  were  not  in  their 
places.  She  set  them  in  order,  and  drew  the 
curtains  on  either  side  at  the  head  of  her  bed. 
Her  own  dress  was  the  next  object  of  her 
scrutiny.  It  was  all  as  neat,  as  pure,  as  pret- 
tily arranjied  as  ever.  Nothing  about  her 
was  disordered  but  her  hair.  Some  tresses 
had  fallen  loose  on  one  side  of  her  head ;  she 
carefully  put  them  back  in  their  places,  with 
the  help  of  her  glass.  "  How  pale  I  look  !" 
she  thought,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Shall  I  be 
paler  still  Avhen  they  find  me  in  the  morning?" 
She  went  straight  to  the  place  where  tlie 

•  laudanum  was  hidden,  and  took  It  out.  The 
bottle  was  so  small  that  it  lay  easily  in  the 
palm  of  her  hand.  She  let  it  remain  there 
for  a  little  while,  and  stood  looking  at  it. 

"  Death  !"  she  said.  "  In  this  drop  of 
brown  drink— Death  !" 

As  the  words  passed  her  lips  an  agony  of 
unutterable  horror  seized  on  her  in  an  instant. 
She  crossed  the  room  unsteadily,  with  a  mad- 
dening confusion  in  her  head,  with  a  suffocat- 
ing anguish  at  her  heart.  She  caught  at  the 
table  to  support  herself.  The  faint  clink  of 
the  bottle,  as  it  fell  harmlessly  from  her 
loosened  grasp  and  rolled  against  some  porce- 
lain obj'ect  on  the  table,  struck  through  her 
brain  like  the  stroke  of  a  knife.  The  sound 
of  her  own  voice,  sunk  to  a  whisper  —  her 
voice  only  uttering  that  one  word,  Death  — 
rushed  in  her  ears  like  the  rushing  of  a  wind. 
She  dragged  herself  to  the  bedside  and  rested 
her  head  against  it,  sitting  on  the  floor.  "  Oh, 
my  life  !  my  life  !"  she  thouglit ;  "  what  is  my 
life  worth  that  I  cling  to  it  like  this '?" 

An  interval  passed,  and  she  felt  her  strength 
returning.  She  raised  herself  on  her  knees 
and  hid  lier  face  on  the  bed.  She  tried  to 
pray  —  to  pray  to  be  forgiven  for  seeking  the 
refuge  of  death.  Frantic  words  burst  from 
her  lips  —  words  which  would  have  risen  to 
cries  if  she  had  not  stifled  them  in  the  bed- 
clothes. She  started  to  her  feet;  despair 
strengthened  her  with  a  headlong  fury  against 
herself.  In  one  moment  she  was  back  at  the 
table  ;  in  another  the  poison  was  once  more  in 
her  hand. 

She  removed  the  cork  and  lifted  the  bottle 
to  her  mouth. 

At  the  first  cold  touch  of  the  glass  on  her 

'  lips  her  strong  young  life  leaped  up  in  her 

leaping   blood,    and   fought   with   the    whole 

•  frenzy  of  its  loathing  against  the  close  terror 
■  of  Death.  Every  active  power  in  the  exuber- 
ant vital  force  that  was  in  her  rose  in  revolt 
against  the  destruction  which  her  own  will 
would  fain  have  wreaked  on  her  own  life. 
She  paused ;  for  the  second  time  she  paused 

^in  spite  of  herself.  There,  in  the  glorious 
perfection  of  her  youth  and  health  —  there, 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  human  existence, 
she  stood,  with  the  kiss  of  the  Destroyer  close 
at  her  lips,  and  Nature,  faithful  to  its  sacred 
trust,  fighting  for  the  salvation  of  her  to  the 
last. 


No  word  passed  her  lips.  Her  cheeks 
flushed  deep,  her  breath  came  thick  and  fust. 
With  ,the  poison  still  in  her  hand,  with  the 
sense  that  she  might  faint  in  another  moment, 
she  made  for  the  window  and  threw  back  the 
curtain  that  covered  it. 

The  new  day  had  risen.  The  broad,  gray 
dawn  flowed  in  on  her  over  the  quiet  eastern 
sea. 

She  saw  the  waters  heaving  large  and  silent 
in  the  misty  calm  ;  she  felt  the  fresh  breath  of 
the  morning  flutter  cool  on  her  face.  Her 
strength  returned ;  her  mind  cleared  a  little. 
At  the  sight  of  the  sea  her  memory  recalled 
the  walk  in  the  garden  overnight,  and  the 
picture  which  her  distempered  fancy  had 
painted  on  the  black  void.  In  thought,  she 
saw  the  picture  again  —  the  murderwr  hurl- 
ing the  Spud  of  the  plough  into  the  air,  and 
setting  the  life  or  death  of  the  v/oman  who 
had  deserted  him  on  the  hazard  of  the  falling 
point.  The  infection  of  that  tei'rible  super-- 
stition  seized  on  her  mind  as  suddenly  as  tho 
new  day  had  burst  on  her  view.  The  promise 
of  release  which  she  saw  in  it  from  the  horror 
of  her  own  hesitation  roused  the  last  energies 
of  her  despair.  She  resolved  to  end  the 
struggle  by  setting  her  life  or  death  on  the 
hazard  of  a  chance. 

On  what  chance  ? 

The  sea  showed  it  to  her.  Dimly  distin- 
guishable through  the  mist  she  saw  a  littlt' 
fleet  of  coasting  vessels  slowly  drifting  toward 
the  house,  all  following  the  same  direction 
with  the  favoring  set  of  the  tide.  In  half  an 
hour  —  perhaps  in  less  —  the  fleet  would  have 
passed  her  window.  The  hands  of  her  watch 
pointed  to  four  o'clock.  She  seated  herself 
close  at  the  side  of  the  window,  with  her  back 
toward  the  quarter  from  which  the  vessels 
were  drifting  down  on  her  —  with  the  poison 
placed  on  the  window-sill  and  the  watch  on 
her  lap.  For  one  half-hour  to  come  she  de- 
termined to  wait  there  and  count  the  vessels- 
as  they  went  by.  If  in  that  time  an  even 
number  passed  her,  the  sign  given  should  be  a' 
sign  to  live.  If  the  uneven  number  prevailed, 
the  end  should  be  death. 

With  that  final  resolution  she  rested  her 
head  against  the  window,  and  waited  for  tho 
ships  to  pass. 

The  first  came  —  high,  dark,  and  near  in 
the  mist,  gliding  eilently  over  the  silent  sea. 
An  interval,  and  the  second  followed,  with  tho 
third  close  after  it.  Another  interval,  longer 
and  longer  tlrawn  out,  and  nothing  passed. 
She  looked  at  her  watch.  Twelve  miaatee, 
and  three  ships.     Three. 

The  fourth  came  —  slower  than  the  rest, 
larger  than  the  rest,  farther  off  in  the  mist 
than  the  rest.'  The  interval  foUov.-^ed  —  » 
long  interval  once  more.  Then  the  next  ve*- 
sel  passed — darkest  and  nearest  of  all.  Five. 
The  next  uneven  number.     Five. 

She  looked  at  her  watch  again.  Nineteen 
minutes,  and    five  ships.      Twenty  minutes, 


NO  NAME. 


189 


twenty-one,  two,  tlirce,  and  no  sixth  vessel. 
Twenty-four,  and  the  sixth  came  by.  Twen- 
ty-five, twenty -six,  twenty -seven,  twenty- 
eight,  and  tlie  next  uneven  number  —  the 
fatal  Seven  —  glided  into  view.  Tavo  min- 
utes to  the  end  of  the  haU-bour,  and  seven 
ships. 

Twenty-nine,  and  nothing  foUowed  in  the 
Wake  of  the  seventh  sliip.  The  minute-!iand 
of  the  wat(;h  movud  on  half-way  to  thirty,  and 
still  the  wliite,  heaving  sea  Avas  a  misty  blank. 
Without  moving  her  head  from  the  window  she 
took  the  poison  in  one  hand  and  raised  the 
watch  in  the  other.  As  the  quick  seconds 
counted  each  other  out,  her  eyes,  as  quick  as 
they,  looked  from  the  wateli  to  the  sea,  from 
thesca  10  the  watch— looked  for  the  last  time 
at  the  sea — and  saw  tlie  Eighth  ship. 

I.i.fe  !     At  the  last  moment,  Life  ! 

She  never  moved ;  she  never  spoke.  The 
death  of  thought,  the  death  of  feeling,  seemed 
to  have  come  to  her  already.  She  put  back 
the  poison  mechanically  on  the  ledge  of  the 
window,  and  Avatched  as  iu  a  dream,  the  ship 
gliding  sniootldy  on  its  silent  way — gliding  till 
it  melted  dimly  into  shadow — gliding  till  it  was 
lost  in  the  mist. 

The  strain  o%\  her^nind  relaxed  when  the 
Messenger  of  Life  had  j)assed  from  her  siglit. 

"Providence?"  she  whispered  faintly  to  her- 
self    "  Or  Chance  ?" 

Ilea'  eyos  closed  and  her  head  fell  back. 
When  the  sense  of  life  returned  to  her  the 
morning  sun  was  warm  on  her  face  —  the  blue 
heaven  looked  down  on  her — and  the  sea  was 
a  sea  of  gold. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  at  the  window  and 
burst  into  tears. 

*         »         *  *         *         «         * 

Toward  noon  that  day,  the  captain,  waiting 
below  stairs,  and  hearing  no  movement  in  INLag- 
dalen's  room,  felt  uneasj'  at  the  long  silence. 
He  desired  the  new  maid  to  follow  him  up 
stairs,  and,  pointing  to  the  door,  told  her  to  go 
in  softly  and  see  whether  her  mistress  was 
awake. 

The  maid  entered  the  room,  remained  there 
a  moment*,  and  came  out  again,  closing  the 
door  gently. 

"  She  looks  beautiful.  Sir,"  said  the  girl ; 
"  and  she  's-  sleeping  as  quietly  as  a  new-i)orn 
child." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  morning  of  her  husband's  return  to 
North  Shingles  was  a  morning  mcmoi-able  for 
ever  in  tht'  domestic  calendar  of  Mrs.  Wracrge. 
She  dated  from  that  occasion  the  first  an- 
nouncement which  reached  her  of  Magdalen's 
marringe. 

If  had  l)ecn  Mrs.  Wragge's  earthly  lot  to  pjiss 
her  life  in  a  state  of  perpetual  surprise.  Never 
yet,  however,  had  she  wandered  in  such  a  maze 
of  astonishment  as  the  maze  in  which  she  lost 


herself  when  the  captain  coolly  told  her  the 
truth.  She  had  been  sharp  enough  to  suspect 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  of  coming  to  the  house  ia 
the  character  of  a  sweetheart  on  approval ; 
and  .she  had  dimly  interpreted  certain  expres- 
sions of  impatience  which  had  fallen  from 
Magdalen's  lips  as  boding  ill  for  the  success  of 
his  suit — but  her  utmost  penetration  had  never 
reached  as  far  as  a  suspicion  of  the  impending 
marriage.  She  rose  from  one  climax  of  amaze- 
ment to  another  as  her  husband  proceeded 
with  his  disclosure.  A  wedding  in  the  family 
at  a  day's  notice  !  and«that  wedding  Magda- 
len's !  and  not  a  single  new  dress  ordered  for 
iinybody,  the  bride  included  ;  and  the  Orient- 
al Cashmere  Robe  totally  unavailable,  on  the 
occasion  of  all  others  when  she  might  have 
worn  it  to  the  greatest  advantage  !  Mrs. 
Wragge  dropped  crookedly  into  a  chair,  and 
beat  her  disorderly  hands  on  her  misymmetri- 
cal  knees,  in  utter  forgetfulness  of  the  cap- 
tain's presence  and  the  captain's  terrible  eye. 
It  would  not  have  surprised  her  to  hear  next 
that  tlie  world  had  come  to  an  cmd,  and  that 
the  only  mortal  whom  Destiny  had  overlooked 
in  winding  np  the  all'airs  of  this  earthly  planet 
was  heiselt! 

Leaving  his  Avife  to  recover  her  composure 
by  her  own  unaided  etforts.  Captain  Wragge 
withdrew  to  wait  for  Magdalen's  appearance 
in  the  lower  regions  of  the  house.  It  was  close 
on  one  o'clock  before  the  sound  of  footsteps  iu 
the  room  aliove  Avarned  him  that  she  was  aAvakc 
and  stirring.  He  called  at  once  for  the  maid 
(whose  name  he  had  ascertained  to  be  Louisa), 
and  sent  her  up  stairs  to  her  mistress  ibr  the 
second  time. 

Magdalen  Avas  standing  by  her  dressiiig- 
table  Avheu  a  faint  tap  near  the  door  suddenly 
roused  her.  The  ta])  Avas  followed  by  the  soiuid 
of  a  meek  voice,  Avliich  announced  itself  as  the 
voice  of  "  her  maid,"  and  incpiircd  if  Miss  By- 
grave  needed  any  assistance  that  morning. 

'•  Not  at  present,"  said  Magdalen,  as  soon  as 
she  recovered  the  surprise  of  finding  herself 
unexpectedly  provided  Avith  au  attendant.  "I 
Avill  ring  when  I  Avant  you." 

After  dismissing  the  Avoman  Avlth  that  an- 
SAver,  she  accidentally  looked  from  the  door  to 
the  window.  Any  speculations  on  the  subject 
of  the  new  servant  in  which  she  might  other- 
wise have  engaged  Avere  instantly  suspeiuled 
by  the  sight  "of  the.  bottle  of  laudanum,  still 
standing  on  the  ledge  of  the  Avindow,  where 
she  had  left  it  at  sunrise.  She  took  it  once 
more  in  her  hand,  Avith  a  strange  confusion  of 
feeling — Avith  a  vague  doubt  even  yet,  Avhether 
the  si'^ht  of  it  reminded  her  of  a  terrible  reality 
or  a  terrible  dream.  Her  first  impulse  Avas  to 
rid  herself  of  it  on  the  spot.  She  raised  tho 
bottle  to  throAV  the  contents  out  of  the  Avin- 
dow- —  and  paused,  in  sudden  distrust  of  the 
imjiulse  that  had  come  to  her.  "  I  have  ac- 
cepted my  ncAv  life,"  she  thought.  "  How  do 
1  know  what  that  life  may  have  in  store  for 
me  T'     She  turned  from  the  Avindow  and  Avent 


190 


NO  NAME. 


back  to  the  tabic.  "  I  may  be  forced  to  drink 
it  yet,"  she  said,  and  put  tlie  laudanum  into 
her  dressin;T-ease. 

Her  mind  was  not  at  ease  when  she  had 
done  this :  there  seemed  to  be  some  indefinable 
ingratitude  in  the  act.  Still  she  made  no  at- 
tempt to  remove  the  bottle  from  its  hiding- 
place.  She  hurried  on  her  toilet;  she  hasten- 
ed the  time  when  she  could  ring  for  the  maid, 
and  forget  herself  and  her  waking  thoughts  in 
a  new  subject.  After  touching  the  bell  she 
took  from  the  table  her  letter  to  Norali  and 
her  letter  to  the  captnin,  put  them  both  into 
her  dressing-case  with  the  laudanum,  and 
locked  it  securely  witli  the  key  which  she  kept 
attached  to  her  watch-chain. 

Magdalen's  first  impression  of  her  attendant 
was  not  an  agreeable  one.  She  could  not  in- 
vestigate the  girl  with' the  experienced  eye  of 
the  landlady  at  the  London  hotel,  who  had 
characterized  the  stranger  as  a  young  person 
conversant  with  misfortune ;  and  who  had 
ehown  i)lainly,  by  her  look  and  manner,  of 
what  nature  she  suspected  that  misfortune  to 
be.  But,  with  this  drawback,  Magdalen  was 
perfectly  competent  to  detect  the  tokens  of 
sickness  and  sorrow  lurking  under  the  surficc 
of  the  new  maid's  activity  and  politeness.  She 
suspected  the  girl  was  ill-tempered ;  she  dis- 
' liked  her  name;  and  slie  was  indisposed  to 
we.lcome  any  servant  who  had  been  eniraged 
by  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  But  after  the  first  few 
minutes  "Louisa"  grew  on  her  liking.  She 
answered  all  the  questions  put  to  her  with  per- 
fect directness;  she  appeared  to  understand 
her  duties  thoroughly;  and  she  never  spoke 
until  slie  was  spoken  to  first.  After  making  all 
the  incjuiries  that  occurred  to  her  at  the  time, 
and  alter  determining  to  give  the  maid  a  fair 
trial,  INIagdalen  rose  to  leave  the  room.  The 
very  air  in  it  was  still  heavy  to  her  with  the 
oppression  of  the  past  niglit. 

"Have  you  anything  more  to  say  to  me  ?" 
she  asked,  turning  to  the  servant,  with  her 
hand  on  the  door. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  Miss,"  said  Louisa, 
very  respectfully  and  very  quietly.  "I  think 
my  master  told  me  that  the  marriage  was  to 
be  to-morrow  V" 

Magdalen  repressed  the  sliudder  that  stole 
over  her  at  that  reference  to  the  marriage  on 
the  lips  of  a  stranger,  and  answered  in  the 
affirmative. 

"It  's  a  very  short  time,  Miss,  to  prepare  in. 
If  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  my 
orders  about  the  packing  before  you  go  down 
stairs — V" 

"  There  are  no  such  preparations  to  make 
as  you  suppose,'  said  Magdalen,  hastily. 
"  The  few  things  I  have  here  can  be  all 
packed  at  once,  if  you  like.  I  shall  wear  the 
same  dress  to-morrow  which  I  have  on  to-day. 
Leave  out  the  straw  bonnet  and  the  light 
shawl,  and  put  everything  else  into  my  boxes. 
I  have  no  new  dresses  to  pack — I  have  noth- 
ing ordered  for  the  occasion,  of   any  sort." 


She  tried  to  add  rfome  commonplace  phrases 
of  explanation,  accounting  as  probably  as 
might  be  for  the  absence  of  the  usual  wedding- 
outfit  and  wedding-dress.  But  no  further 
reference  to  the  marriage  Avould  pass  her  lips, 
and  without  another  word  she  abruptly  left 
the  room. 

The  meek  end  melancholy  Louisa  stood  lost 
in  astonishment.  "  Something  wrong  here," 
she  thought.  •'  I  'm  half  afraid  of  my  new 
place  alread}'."  She  sighed  resignedly,  shook 
her  head,  and  Avent  to  the  wardrobe.  She 
first  examined  the  drawers  underneath ;  took 
out  the  various  articles  of  linen  laid  inside, 
and  placed  them  on  chairs.  Opening  the 
upper  part  of  the  wardrobe  next,  she  ranged 
the  dresses  in  it  side  by  side  on  the  befl.  Her 
last  proceeding  was  to  push  the  empty  boxes 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  to  compare 
the  space  at  her  disposal  with  the  articles  of 
dress  Avlilch  she  had  to  pack.  She  completed 
her  preliminary  calculations  with  the  ready 
self-reliance  of  a  woman  who  thoroughly  un- 
derstood her  business,  and  began  the  packing 
forthwith.  Just  as  she  had  placed  the  first 
article  of  linen  i-n  the  smaller  box  the  door  of 
the  room  opened,  and  the  house-servant,  eager 
for  gossip,  came  in.  • 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  asked  Louisa, 
quietly. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  like  this!" 
said  the  house-servant,  entering  on  her  subject 
immediately. 

"  Like  what  ?" 

"  Like  this  marriage,  to  be  sure  !  You  're 
London  -  bred,  they  tell  me.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  a  young  lady  being  married  without  a 
single  neAv  thing  to  her  back?  No  wedding- 
veil,  and  no  wedding-breakfast,  and  no  Aved- 
(llng-faA-ors  for  the  servants  !  It 's  fiying  in  the 
face  of  Providence — that  's  Avhat  I  say.  I  'm 
only  a  poor  servant,  I  know.  But  it  's  Avick* 
ed — doAvnrlght  Avickcd — and  I  don't  caro  Avho 
hears  me  !" 

Louisa  Avent  on  with  the  packing. 

"  Look  at  her  dresses!"  persisted  the  house- 
servant,  Avaving  her  hand  indignantly  at  the 
bed.  "  I  'm  only  a  poor  girl,  but  I  wouldn't 
marry  the  best  man  alive  Avithout  a  new  goAvn 
to  my  back.  Look  hei-e  I  look  at  this  doAvdy 
brown  thing  here.  Alpaca  I  You  're  not  go- 
ing to  pack  this  Alpaca  thing,  are  you  ?  AVhy, 
it  's  hardly  fit  for  a  servant  1  I  don't  know 
that  I  'd  take  a  gift  of  it  if  it  Avas  oflTored  me. 
It  Avould  do  ibr  me  if  I  took  it  up  in  the  skirt 
and  let  it  out  in  the  Avaist;  and  it  Avouldn't 
look  so  bad  Avith  a  bit  of  bright  trimming, 
Avould  it  ?" 

"  Let  that  dress  alone,  if  your  please,"  said 
Louisa,  as  quietly  as  ever. 

"  AVhat  did  you  say  ?"  inquired  the  other, 
doubting  Avhether  her  ears  had  not  deceived 
her. 

"  I  said,  let  that  dress  alone.  It  belongs  to 
my  mistress;  and  I  have  my  mistress's  orders 
to  pack  up  everything  in  the  room.     You  ara 


NO  NAME. 


191 


not.  helping  me  by  coming  here — you  are  very 
milcli  in  niv  way." 

"  Well  !"  said'  the  house-servant,  "you  may 
be  London -bred,  as  they  say.  But  if  these 
are  your  London  manners,  give  me  SufTolk  !" 
Sheopened  the  door,  with  an  angry  snateh  at 
the  handle,  shut  it  violently,  opened  it  again, 
and  looked  in.*  "  Give  me  Sullblk  !"  said  the 
house-servant,  with  a  parting  nod  of  her  head 
to  point  the  edge  of  her  sarcasm. 

Louisa  proceeded  impenetrably  with  her 
paeking-up. 

Having  neatly  disposed  of  the  linen  in  the 
smaller  bo.x,  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
dresses  next.  After  passing  them  carefully  in 
revicNv,  to  ascertain  which  was  the  least  valu- 
able of  the  collection,  and  to  place  that  one 
in  the  bottom  of  the  trunk  for  the  rest  to  lie 
on,  she  made  her  choice  with  very  little  diffi- 
culty. The  first  gown  which  she  put  into  the 
box  was  the  brown  Alpaca  dress. 

Meanwhile  Magdalen  had  joined  the  cap- 
tain down  stairs.  Although  he  could  not  lail 
to  notice  the  languor  in  her  face,  and  the 
llstlessness  of  all  her  movements,  he  was  re- 
lieved to  find  that  she  met  him  with  ])erfect 
composure.  She  was  even  self- ])Ossessod 
enough  to  a.sk  liim  for  news  of  his  journey, 
with  no  other  signs  of  agitation  than  a  pass- 
ing change  of  color  and  a  little  trembling  of 
the  lips. 

*'  So  much  for  the  past,"  said  Captain 
Wragge,  when  his  narrative  of  the  expedition 
to  Jyondon  by  way  of  St.  Crux  had  come  to 
an  en<l.  "  Now  for  the  present.  Tiie  bride- 
groom— " 

"  If  it  makes  no  difTerence,"  she  interposed, 
"  call  him  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
is  coming  here  this  afternoon  to  dine  and 
Bjiend  the  evening,  lie  will  be  tiresome  in 
the  last  degree;  but,  like  all  tiresome  j)eo])le, 
he  is  not  to  be  got  rid  of  on  any  terms.  Be- 
fore he  comes  1  have  a  last  word  or  two  of 
caution  for  youi:  private  ear.  By  this  time 
to-morrow  we  sliall  have  ])arted,  without  any 
certain  knowledge  on  either  side  of  our  ever 
meeting  again.  I  am  anxious  to  serve  your 
interests  faithfullv  to  the  last;  I  am  anxious 
you  should  feel  that  I  have  done  all  I  could 
(or  youi-  future  security  when  we  say  good-bj'." 

l^Iagdalen  looked  at  him  in  surj)rise.  lie 
epoke  in  altered  tones,  lie  was  agitated;  he 
was  strangely  in  earnest.  Something  in  his 
look  and  manner  took  her  memory  back  to 
tlie  first  night  at  Aldborough,  when  she  had 
oj)ined  her  mind  to  him  in  the  darkening 
Rolitude  —  when  they  two  liad  sat  together 
alone  on  the  slope  of  the  martello  tower. 

"  1  have  no  reason  to  think  otherwise  than 
kindly  of  yon,"  she  said. 

Captain  Wragge  suddenly  left  his  chair, 
ind  look  a  turn  backward  and  forward  in  the 
room.  Magdalen's  last  words  seemed  to  have 
produced  ."!ome  extraordinary  disturbance  in 
him. 


"  Damn  it !"  he  broke  out ;  "  I  can't  let  you 
saj'^  tliat.  You  have  reason  to  think  ill  of  me. 
I  have  cheated  you.  You  never  got  your 
fair  share  of  profit  from  the  Entertainment, 
from  first  to  last.  There  !  now  the  murder  'a 
out!" 

INIagdalen  smiled,  and  signed  to  him  to  come 
back  to  his  chair. 

"  I  know  you  cheated  me,"  she  said,  quietly. 
"You  were  in  the  exercise  of  youi-  prfft'ession, 
Captain  Wragge.  I  expected  it  when  I  joined 
yon.  I  made  no  complaint  at  tiie  time,  and  I 
make  none  now..  If  the  money  you  took  is 
any  recompense  for  all  the  trouble  I  have 
given  you,  you  are  heartily  weleouK!  to  it." 

"  W.ll  you  shake  hands  on  that  V"  asked  the 
ca]»tain,  with  an  awkwardness  and  hesitation 
strongly  at  variance  with  his  customary  case 
of  manner. 

]\Iagdalen  gave  him  her  hand.  lie  wrung 
it  hard.  "  You  are  a  strange  girl,"  he  said, 
trying  to  speak  lightly.  "  You  have  laid  a 
hold  on  me  that  I  don't  quite  uiulerstand. 
I  'm  Imlf- uncomfortable  at  taking  the  money 
Irom  you  now,  and  yet  you  don't  want  it, 
do  you  V"  He  hesitated.  "  I  almost  wish," 
he  said,  "  1  had  never  met  you  on  the  walls  of 
York.' 

"  It  is  too  late  to  wish  that,  Captain  Wragge. 
Say  no  more  - —  you  only  distress  me  ;  say  no 
more.  We  have  other  subjects  to  talk  about. 
What  were  those  words  of  caution  which  you 
had  for  my  private  ear  V" 

The  captain  took  another  turn  in  the  room, 
and  struggled  bark  again  into  his  every-day 
character.  He  produced  from  his  j)ocket-book 
Mrs.  Lecount's  letter  to  her  master,  and 
handed  it  to  Magdahn. 

"  There  is  the  letter  tliat  might  have  ruined 
us  if  it  had  ever  reached  its  address,"  he  said. 
"  Read  it  carefully.  I  have  a  question  to  ask 
you  when  you  have  done." 

IMagdalen  read  the  letter.  "  Wl^at  is  .this 
proof,"  she  inquired,  "  which  Mrs.  Lecount 
relies  on  so  confidently  ?" 

"  The  very  question  I  was  going  to  ask 
you,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "Consult  your 
memory  of  what  hapjiened  when  you  tried 
that  experiment  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  Did 
Mrs.  Lecount  get  no  other  chance  against 
you  than  the  chances  you  have  told  me  of 
already  ?" 

"  She  discovered  that  my  face  was  dis- 
guised, and  she  heard  me  speak  in  my  own 
voice." 

"  And  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothing  more." 

"Very  good.  Then  my  interpretation  of 
the  letter  is  clearly  the  i  ight  one.  The  proof 
Mr.s.  Lecount  relies  on  is  my  wife's  infernal 
<rhost  story  —  which  is,  in  plain  English,  the 
storv  of  Miss  Bygrave  having  bcicn  seen  in 
Miss  Vanstonc's  di.sguise,  the  witness  being 
the  very  person  who  is  afterward  presented 
at  Aldborough  in  the  character  of  Miss  By- 
grave'a  aunt.     An  excellent  chance  for  Mrs. 


192 


NO  NAME. 


Lecount,  if  she  can  only  lay  her  hand  at  the 
risrht  time  on  Mrs.  Wragge,  and  no  chance  at 
all  if  she  can't.  Make  your  mind  easy  on  that 
point.  Mrs.  Lecount  and  my  wife  have  seen 
tlie  last  of  each  other.  In  the  meantime, 
don't  neglect  the  warning  I  give  you  in  giving 
you  this  letter.  Tear  it  up  for  fear  of  acci- 
dents, but  don't  forget  it." 

"  Trust  me  to  remember  it,"  replied  Mag- 
dalen, destroying  the  letter  while  she  spoke. 
"  Have  you  anything  more  to  tell  me  '?" 

"  I  have  some  informacion  to  give  you,"  said 
Captain  Wragge,  "  which  may  be  useful,  be- 
cause it  relates  to  your  future  security.  Mind, 
I  want  to  know  nothing  about  your  proceed- 
ings when  to-morrow  is  over — we  settled  that 
Avhen  we  first  discussed  this  matter.  I  ask 
no  questions,  axxl  I  make  no  guesses.  All  I 
want  to  do  now  is  to  warn  you  of  your  legal 
position  after  your  marriage,  and  to  leave  you 
to  make  what  use  you  please  of  your  knowl- 
edijje  at  your  own  sole  discretion.  I  took  a 
lawyer's  opinion  on  the  point  when  I  was 
in  London,  thinking  it  might  be  us(*ful  to 
you." 

"  It  is  sure  to  be  useful.  What  did  tke 
lawyer  say  ?" 

"  To  put  it  plainly,  this  is  what  he  said  :  If 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  ever  discovers  that  you 
have  knowingly  married  him  under  a  false 
name,  he  c  'n  apply  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Court 
to  liave  his  marriage  declared  null  and  void. 
The  issue  of  the  application  would  rest  with 
the  Judges.  But  if  he  could  prove  that  he 
had  been  intentionally  deceived,  the  legal 
opinion  is  that  his  case  would  be  a  strong 
one." 

"  Suppose  I  chose  to  apply  on  my  side  V" 
said  Magdalen,  eagerly.     "  VVhat  then  T' 

"  You  might  make  the  application,"  replied 
the  captain.  "  But  remember  one  thing  — 
you  would  come  into  Court  with  the  acknowl- 
edgment" of  your  own  deception.  I  leave  you 
to  imagine  what  the  Judges  would  think  of 
that."  " 

"  Did  the  lawyer  tell  you  anything  else?" 

"  One  thing  beside,"  said  Captain  Wragge. 
"  Whatever  the  law  might  do  with  the  mar- 
riage in  the  lifetime  of  both  the  parties  to  it, 
on  the  death  of  either  one  of  them  no  appli- 
cation made  by  the  survivor  would  avail; 
and,  as  to  the  case  of  that  survivor,  the  mar- 
riao-'i  would  remain  valid.  You  understand  ? 
If  he  dies,  or  if  you  die — and  if  no  application 
lias  been  made  to  the  Court — he  the  survivor, 
or  you  the  survivor,  would  have  no  power 
of  disputing  the  marriage.  But  in  the  life- 
time of  both  of  you,  if  he  claimed  to  have  the 
marriage  dissolved,  the  chances  are  all  in 
favor  of  his  carrying  his  point." 

He  looked  at  Magdalen  with  a  furtive  curi- 
osity as  he  said  those  words.  She  turned  her 
head  aside,  absently  tying  her  watch  -  chain 
into  a  loop  and  untying  it  again,  evidently 
thinking  with  the  closest  attention  over  what 
he  had   last  said  to  her.     Captain   Wragge 


walked  uneasily  to  the  window  and  looked 
out.  The  first  object  that  caught  his  eye  was 
Mr.  Noel  Vanjtone  approacliiug  from  Sea- 
View.  He  returned  instantly  to  his  former 
place  in  the  room,  and  addressed  himself  to 
Magdalen  once  more. 

"  Here  is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,"  he  said. 
"  One  last  caution  before  he  comes  in.  Be  on 
your  guard  with  him  about  your  age.  He  put 
the  question  to  me  before  he  got  the  License. 
I  took  the  shortest  way  out  of  the  dlfliculty, 
and  told  him  you  were  twenty-one,  and  he 
made  the  declaration  accordingly.  Never 
mind  about  me;  after  to-morrow  I  am  invisi- 
ble. But  in  your  own  interests  don't  forget, 
if  the  subject  ever  turns  up,  that  you  are  of 
age.  There  is  nothing  more.  You  are  provid- 
ed with  every  necessary  warning  that  I  can 
give  you.  Whatever  happens  in  the  future, 
remember  I  have  done  my  best." 

He  hurried  to  the  door  without  waiting  for 
an  answer,  and  went  out  Into  the  garden  to 
receive  his  guest. 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  made  his  appearance  at 
the  gate,  soleniiily  carrying  his  bridal  offering 
to  North  Shingles  with  both  hands.  The  ob- 
ject in  question  was  aa  ancient  casket  (one  of 
his  father's  bargains);  inside  the  casket  reposed 
an  old-fashioned  carbuncle  brooch  set  in  silver 
(another  of  his  father's  bargains) — bridal  pres- 
ents both,  possessing  the  inestimable  merit  of 
leaving  his  money  undisturbed  in  his  pocket. 
He  shook  his  head  portentously  when  the  cap- 
tain inquired  after  his  health  and  spirits.  He 
had  passed  a  wakeful  night ;  ungovernable 
apprehensions  of  Lecount's  sudden  reappear- 
ance had  beset  him  as  soon  as  he  found  himself 
alone  at  Sea- View.  Sea- View  was  redolent 
of  Lecount :  Sea-View  (though  built  on  piles, 
and  the  strongest  house  in  England)  was 
henceforth  odious  to  him.  He  had  felt  this  all 
night ;  he  had  also  felt  his  responsibilities. 
There  was  the  lady's-maid,  to  begin  with. 
Now  he  had  hired  lier  he  began  to  think  she 
wouldn't  do.  She  might  fall  sick  on  ins  hands  ; 
she  might  have  deceived  him  by  a  false  char- 
acter ;  she  and  the  landlady  of  .the  hotel  might 
have  been  in  league  together.  Horrible! 
Really  horrible  to  think  of!  Then  there  was 
the  other  responsibility-^— perhaps  the  heaviest 
of  the  two  —  the  responsibility  of  deciding 
where  he  was  to  go  and  spend  his  honey-moon 
to-morrow.  He  would  have  preferred  one  of 
his  father's  empty  houses.  But  except  at 
Vauxhall  Walk  (which  he  supposed  would  be 
objected  to)  and  at  Aldborough  (wliieh  was, 
of  course,  out  of  the  question),  all  the  houses 
were  let.  He  would  put  himself  In  Mr.  By- 
grave's  hands.  Where  had  I\tr.  Bygrave  spent 
his  own  honey  -  moon  ?  Given  the  British 
Islands  to  choose  from,  where  would  Mr.  By- 
grave  pitch  his  tent,  on  a  careful  review  of  all 
the  circumstances  ? 

At  this  point  the  bridegroom's  questions 
suddenly  came  to  an  end,  and  the  bridegroom's 
face  exhibited  an  expression  of  ungovernable 


NO  NAME. 


19S 


astonishment.  His  judicious  friend,  whose 
advice  had  been  at  his  disposal  in  every  other 
emergency,  suddenly  turned  round  on  iiim,  in 
the  euiergency  of  tlie  honey-moon,  and  flatly 
declined  discussing  the  sul>ject. 

"  No  !  "  said  the  captain,  as  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  opened  iiis  lips  to  plead  for  a  hearing, 
•'you  must  really  excuse  me.  My  point  of 
view  in  this  matter  is,  as  usual,  a  peculiar 
one.  For  some  time  past  I  have  been  living 
in  an  atmosphere  of  deception  to  suit  your  i 
convenience.  That  atmosphere,  my  good  Sir, 
is  getting  close  —  my  Moral  Being  reipiircs 
ventilati.n.  Settle  the  choictf  of  a  bcality 
with  my  niece,  anrl  leave  me,  at  my  particu- 
lar retjiiest.  in  total  ignoran(;e  on  the  subject. 
Mrs.  Lecount  is  certain  to  come  here  on  her 
return  from  Zurich,  and  is  certain  to  ask  me 
where  you  are  gone.  You  may  think  it 
stianiife,  Mr.  Vanstonc;  but  when  I  say  I 
don't  know,  I  wish  to  enjoy  the  unaccustomed  | 
luxury  of  feeling  for  once  in  a  way  that  I  am  | 
telling  the  truth."  ' 

AVilth  those   words  he   opened   the  silting-! 
room  door,  introduced  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  | 
Magdalen's  presence,   bowed   himself   out  of^ 
the  room  again,  and  set  forth  alone  to  while  ; 
away   the  rest  of  the  afternoon  by  taking  a  ' 
walk.     His  face  siiowed  plain  tokens  of  anxi-  j 
ety,  and  his  parti-colored  eyes  looked  hither  | 
and  thither  distrustfully  as  he  sauntered  along 
the  shore.     "  The  time  hangs  heavy  on  our 
hands,"  thought  the  captain.      "  I    wish  to- 
morrow was  come  and  gone." 

The  day  passed  and  nothing  happened  ;  the 
evening  and  the  nigiit  followed  placidly  and  | 
uneventfully.  Monday  came  — r  a  cloudless, 
lovely  day  ;  Monday  confirmed  the  captain's  j 
assertion  that  the  marriage  was  a  certainty.  ; 
Toward  ten  o'clock  the  clerk,  ascending  the  j 
church-steps,  (piotcd  the  old  proverb  to  the  i 
pew-opener,  meeting  him  under  the  porch  :  i 
"  Happy  the  bride  on  whom  the  sun  shines!  "  | 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  the  wediling-  | 

f)arty  was  in  the  vestry,  and  the  clergyman 
ed  the  way  to  the  altar.  Carefully  as  the 
secret  of  the  marria";e  had  been  kept,  tl\e 
opening  of  the  churt-li  in  the  morning  had 
been  enough  to  betray  it.  A  small  congrega- 
tion, almost  entirely  composed  of  women,  was 
scattered  here  and  there  among  the  pews. 
Kirkc's  sister  and  her  children  were  staying 
with  a  friend  at  Aldl>orough,  and  Kirke's  sis- 
ter was  one  of  the  congregation. 

As  the  wedding-party  entered  the  church 
the  haunting  terror  of  Mrs.  Lecount  spread 
from  Noel  Vanstone  to  the  captain.  For  the 
first  few  minutes  the  eyes  of  both  of  them 
looked  among  the  women  in  the  pews  with 
the  same  searching  scrutiny,  and  looked  away 
again  with  the  same  sense  of  relief.  The 
clergyman  noticed  that  look,  and  investigated 
the  License  more  closely  than  usual.  The 
clerk  began  to  doubt  privately  whether  tin 
old  proverb  about  thfc  bride  was  a  proverb 
25 


to  be  always  depended  on.  The  female  mem- 
bers of  the  congregation  murmured  among 
themselves  at  the  inex'usable  disregard  of 
appearances  implied  in  the  bride's  d'*ess. 
Kirke's  sister  whispered  venomously  in  her 
friend'.s  ear,  "  Thank  God  for  to-day,  for 
Robert's  sake  I  "  Mrs.  Wragge  crii'd  silently 
with  the  dread  of  some  threatening  calamity, 
she  know  not  what.  The  one  person  present 
who  remained  outwardly  undisturbed  was 
Magdalen  herself.  She  stood  with  tearless 
resignation  in  her  place  before  the  altar  — 
stood,  as  if  all  the  sources  of  human  emo- 
tion were  frozen  up  within  her.  What  she 
suffered  that  mornina  she  suffered  in  the  se- 
crecy which  no  mortal  insight  can  divine. 
Tlie  clergyman  opened  the  Book. 


It  was  (lone.  The  awful  words  which  speak 
from  earth  to  heaven  were  pronounced,  'i'he 
children  of  tW;  two  dead  broihers  —  inherit- 
ors of  the  impliicable  enmity  which  had  parted 
their  parents  —  were  Man  and  Wife. 

From  that  moment  events  hurried  with  a 
headlong  rapidity  to  the  parting  scene.  They 
were  bick  at  the  house,  while  the  words  of 
the  Marriage  Service  seemed  still  ringing  in 
their  ears.  Before  they  had  been  five  min- 
utes in-doors  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the  gar- 
den-gate. In  a  minute  more  the  op[)Oi-tunity 
came  for  which  Magilalen  and  the  captain 
had  been  on  the  watch  —  the  opportunity  of 
speaking  together  in  private  lor  the  last  time. 
She  still  preserved  her  icy  resignation  —  she 
seemed  beyond  all  reach  now  of  the  fear  that 
had  once  mastered  her,  of  the  remorsi^  that 
had  once  tortured  her  to  the  soul.  With  a 
firm  hand  she  gave  him  the  i)romised  money. 
With  a  firm  face  she  looked  her  last  at  him. 
"  I  'm  not  to  blame,"  he  whispered,  eagerly; 
"  I  have  only  done  what  you  asked  me."  She 
bowed  her  head  —  she  bent  it  toward  him^ 
kindly,  and  let  him  touch  her  forehead  with 
his  lips.  "  Take  care  !"  he  said.  "  My  last 
words  are,  for  God's  sake  take  i-are  when  I  'm 
gone!"  She  turned  from  him  with  a  smile, 
and  spoke  her  farewell  words  to  his  wife. 
Mrs.  Wragge  tried  hanl  to  face  her  loss  brave- 
ly— the  loss  of  the  friend  whose  presence  had 
fallen  like  light  from  heaven  over  the  dim 
pathway  of  her  life.  "  You  have  been  very 
LTOod  to  me,  my  dear;  I  thank  you  kindly,  I 
thank  you  with  all  my  heart."  She  could  say 
no  morp;  she  clung  to  Magdalen  in  apMSsion 
of  tears,  as  her  mother  might  have  clung  to 
her  if  her  mother  had  lived  to  see  that  horri- 
ble day.  "  I  'm  frighteneil  for  you  I"  cried 
the  poor  creature,  in  a  wild,  wailing  voice. 
"Oh,  my  darling,  I  'm  frightened  for  you!" 
Magdalen  desperately  drew  herself  free,  kiss- 
ed her,  and  hurried  out  to  the  door.  The 
expression  of  that  artless  gratitude,  the  cry  of 
that  guileless  love,  shook  her  as  nothing  else 
lad  shaken  her  that  day.  It  was  a  refuge  to 
'ut  to  the  carriage — a  refuge,  though  the  man 


19-4 


NO  xVAME. 


.a'lP  h■^''\  married  stood  tliere  waiting  for  her  at 
the  door. 

^u  a.  iV'rnsse  tried  to  follow  her  into  the 
jrai-di'u.  Bur  the  eaptain  had  seen  Majrda- 
len's  lace  as  she  ran  out,  and  he  steadil}'  held 
liis  wife  hack  in  the  passajre.  From  that  dis- 
taiiee  the  last  farewells  were  exehanp;eil.  As 
lonjj:  as  tlie  carriage  was  in  sight  iM  igdalen's 
faie  looked  back  at  them;  she  waved  her 
iiandkfn-hief  as  slie  turned  the  corner.  In  a 
moment  more  the  last  thread  which  bound  her 
to  them  was  broken  ;  tin-  familiar  companion- 
ship <il'  many  months  was  a  thing  of  the  past 
already ! 

Captain  Wragge  closed  the  house-(1oor  on 
the  iilleis  wiio  were  looking  in  from  the  Pa- 
rade, lie  led  his  wife  back  into  the  sitting- 
room  and  spoke  to  her  with  a  forbearance 
which  she  had  never  yet  experienced  from 
him. 

"  She  hns  gone  her  way."  he  said,  ''  and  in 
anotlier  hour  we  shall  have  go|ie  ours.  Cry 
vour  cry  out;  I  don  t  deny  she's  worth  crying 
ibr." 

p>/i'n  then  —  even  when  the  dread  of  Mag- 
dah  nV  future  was  at  its  daikest  in  his  mind — 
the  I'nling  habit  of  the  man's  life  clun.n  to  him. 
^le.  hanically  he  unlo'  kcd  his  dispatih-box  ; 
merhanicaily  he  opened  his  Book  of  Accounts, 
and  made  the  dosing  i-ntry — the  entry  of  liis 
hist  transa'tion  with  Magdalen — in  black  and 
white.  "By  Received  iiom  Miss  Vanstone," 
wiote  tlie  1  apt  lin  with  a  gloomy  brow,  *'  Two 
huii'lreil  pounds." 

"  You  won't  be  angry  with  me  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Wragge,  looking  timidly  at  her  hust)and 
througli  her  tears.  "  I  want  a  w^ord  of  com- 
fort, captain.  Oh,  do  tell  me,  when  shall 
I  si-e  her  again  ?" 

The  captaii  clo-ed  the  book,  and  answered 
in  one  inexorable  word, 

"  Never !" 

Between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  that 
night  Mrs.  Le(  ount  drove  into  Zurich. 

Her  brother's  house,  when  she  stopped 
before  it,  was  shut  up.  With  some  diiKcuify 
and  delay  the  servant  was  aroused.    She  held 


!  up  her  hands  in  speechless  amazement  when 
'  she  opened  the  door,  and  saw  who  her  visitor 
;  was. 

"  Is  my   brother   alive  ?"  asked    Mrs.  Le- 
count,  entering  the  house. 
I      "Alive!"  echoed   the   servant.      "  ?Ie   has 
i  gone  holiday-making  into  the  country  to  finish 

his  recoveiy  in  the  fine  i'resh  air." 

!      The   housekeeper    staggered    back    against 

the  wall  of  the  passage.     The  coachman  and 

the  servant  put   her  into  a  chair.     Her  face 

!  was   livid,  and   her  teeth   chattered   in    her 

\  head. 

"  Send  for  my  brother's  doctor,"  she  said,  as 
;  .soon  as  she  could  speak. 

The  doctor  came  in.     She  handed  him  a 
j  letter  before  he  <"Ould  say  a  word. 

"  Did  you  write  that  letter?" 
I      He  looked  it  over  rapidly,  and  answered  her 

without  hesitation, 
I       ''  Certainly  not !" 
[       "  It  is  your  handwriting." 
I      "  It  is  a  forgery  of  my  handwriting." 

She  rose  from  the  chair  with  a  new  strength 
in  her. 

"  When    does    the   return    mail    start    for 
Paris  ?"  she  asked 
"  In  half  an  hour." 

"  Send  instantly  and  take  me  a  place  in  it !" 
The  servant  hesitated ;  the  doctor  protested. 
She  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  them  both. 

"  Send  !"  she  reiterated,  "or  I  will  go  my- 
self" 

They  obeyed.  The  servant  went  to  take 
the  place:  the  doctor  remained  and  held  a 
conversation  with  Mrs.  Lecount.  When  the 
half- hour  had  passed  he  help'd  her  into 
her  place  in 'the  mail,  and  charged  the  con- 
ductor privately  to  take  care  of  his  pas- 
senger. 

"  She  has  travelled  from  England  without 
stopping,"  said  the  doctor;  "and  she  is  trav- 
elling lack  again  without  rest.  Be  careful  of 
her,  or  she  will  break  down  under  the  double 
journey." 

Tiie  mail  started.  Before  the  first  hour  of 
the  new  day  was  at  an  end  Mrs.  Lecount  wa.s 
OD  her  wav  back  to  England. 


THK  END  OF  TIIE  FOURTH  8CENF.. 


BETWEEN    THE    SCENES.  ' 

I.        .  j      "  ^   ''^^'^  ^^*^"  ^'^   Aldborough   to  try  if  I 

rnoM  GisoTsoE  BARTnAj-r  to  nokl  vanstoxk.      I  could  trace  you  from  that  place,  and   have 

••St.  Cnvx,  Sept'mber-i  l'^47.     !  come  back  as  wise  as  I  went.     I  have  applied 

"My  dear  Nof.l  —  Here  are  two  plain  j  to  your  lawyer  in  London,  and  have  been  told 


cjuestjims  at  starting.  In  the  name  of  all  that 
is  mysterious,  wiiat  are  you  hiding  for  ?  And 
why  is  everything  relating  to  your  marriage 
kejit  an  impenetrable  secret  from  your  oldest 
friends  ? 


in  reply  that  you  have  forbidden  him  to  dis- 
closH.  the  place  of  your  retreat  to  any  one 
without  first  receiving  your  permission  to  do 
so.  All  I  couM  prevail  on  him  to  say  was 
that  he  would  forward  any  letter  which  might 


^'^t   iNAMt: 


195 


be  sent  to  his  care.  1  write  acoordingly.  ami, 
miml  this,  I  expect  an  answer. 

"  Ynu  may  ask,  in  your  'ill-tempered  way, 
what  business  I  have  to  meddle  wi  h  affairs  of 
yours  which  it  is  your  pleasure  to  kei-p  pri- 
vate. My  dear  Noel,  there  is  h  serious  reason 
for  our  opening  communications  with  you  from 
thi.«  house.  You  don't  know  what  events  have 
taken  place  at  St.  Cru.\  since  you  ran  away 
to  get  married  ;  and,  though  I  detest  writing 
letters,  I  must  lose  an  hour's  shooting  to-day 
in  trying  to  enlighten  you. 

"  On  the  twenty-third  of  last  month  the 
admiral  and  I  were  disturbed  over  our  wine 
after  dinner  by  the  announcement  tiiat  a  vis- 
itor had  urie.xpectedly  arrived  at  St.  Crux. 
Who  do  you  think  the  visitor  was  V  Mrs. 
LecDunt ! 

"  My  uncle,  with  that  old-fashioned  bach- 
elor gallantry  of  his,  which  pays  equal  re- 
spect to  all  wearers  of  petticoats,  letl  llie  table 
directly  to  welcorai-  Mrs.  Lecount.  While  I 
was  debating  whether  I  should  follow  him  or 
not.  my  meditations  were  suddenly  brought  to 
an  end  by  a  loud  call  from  the  admiral.  I 
ran  into  the  morning-room,  and  there  was 
your  unfortunate  housekeeper  on  the  sofa, 
with  all  the  women-servants  about  her,  more 
dead  than  alive.  She  had  travelled  from  Eng- 
land to  Zurich,  and  from  Zurich  b;iik  again 
to  England,  without  stopping,  and  she  looked 
seriously  and  literally  at  death's  door  I  im- 
me<liat«ly  cagreed  with  my  uncle  thit  the  first 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  send  for  medical  help. 
AVe  despatched  a  groom  on  the  spot,  ami  at 
Mrs.  liCcount's  own  recjuest  sent  all  the  ser- 
vants in  a  body  out  of  the  room. 

'•  As  soon  .IS  we  were  alone  Mrs.  Lecount 
surprised  us  by  a  singular  question.  She 
ask  id  if  you  had  received  a  letter  which  she 
h^d  aildressed  to  you  before  leaving  England, 
at  this  house.  When  we  told  her  that  the 
letti  r  hail  been  forwarded,  under  cover  to 
your  friend  Air..  Bygrave,  by  your  own  par- 
ticular request,  she  turned  as  pale  as  ashes ; 
and  when  we  added  that  you  had  left  us  in 
company  with  this  same  ^Ir.  Bygrave.  she 
clasped  her  hands  and  stared  at  us  as  if  she 
had  taken  leave  of  her  senses.  IL  r  next 
<pjestion  was.  '  Wiiere  is  Mr.  Noel  now  ?  ' 
We  coidd  only  give  her  one  reply  :  jNIr.  Noel 
had  not  informed  us.  S.ie  looked  perfectly 
thtinilerstruck  at  th  it  answer.  '  IL-  has  gone 
to  his  ruin  !'  slic  said.  'He  has  gone  away 
in  (omijany  with  the  greatest  villain  in  Eng- 
lanil  I  must  find  him  !  I  tell  you  I  must 
fiml  Mr.  Noel  !  It"  I  don't  find  him  at  once  it 
will  i)e  too  late.  He  will  be  married!'  she 
burst  out  (piite  frantically  —  *  on  my  honor 
and  my  oath  he  will  be  married  . '  The  ailmi- 
ral,  incautiously  perhaps,  but  with  the  best 
intentions,  told  her  you  were  married  alreaily. 
She  gave  a  scream  tiiat  made  the  windows 
ring  again,  and  drop|ie«l  l)ac  k  on  the  sofa  in 
;i  fainting  fit.  The  "foctor  came  in  the  ni.k 
of  lime,  and  soon  brought  her  to.     But  she 


was  taK'ii  ill  r,iie  sune  night:  she  has  grown 
j  worse  and  worse  ever  sim  e,  and  I  lie  last  m  d- 
I  ical  report  is  that  the  fever  from  which  she 
j  has  been  suffeiiug  is  in  a  fair  way  to  settle  on 

her  brain. 
;      "  Now,  my  dear  Noel,  neither  my  uncle  nor 
i  I  have  any  wish  to  intrude  ourselves  on  yo^ir 
j  confidence.     We   are  naturally  astonished  at 
!  the  extraordinary  mystery  which  hangs  over 
1  you  and  your  marriage,  and  we  can  not  be 
I  blind  to  the  f;ict  that  your  housekeeper  has 
'  apparent  y  some  strong  reason  of  her  own  for 
I  viewing  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  with  an  enmity 
!  and    distrust    which   we   are  quite    ready   to 
;  believe  tliat    lady   has  done   nothing   to  de- 
!  serve.     Whatever  strange  misunderstanding 
.  there  may   have  been   in  yo  ir  household   is 
I  your  bu.siness  (if  you  choose   to  keep  it   to 
]  yourself),  and  not  ours.     All  we    have   any 
!  right  to  do  is  to  tell  }ou  what  the  doctor  says. 
His  patient  has  been  delirious;  he  dedin'S  to 
;  an>wer  for  her  life  if  she  goes  on  as  she  is 
going  on  now;  and  he  thinks  —  finding  tliat 
j  she   is  perpetually  talking  of  her   master  — 
that  your  presence  would  be  useful   in  (piiet- 
ing  her,  if  vou  could  come  here  at  once  and 
I  ekert  your  nifluence  before  it  is  too  late. 
I      "What  clo   you   say?     Will   you   emerge 
I  from   the   darkness  that  surrounds  you,  and 
come  to  St.   Crux?     If  this  was  the  ca.se  of 
I  an  ordinary  servant.  I  coulil  understand  your 
hesitating  to  leave  the  delights  of  your  honey- 
moon  for  any  such  object  as  isj  h'^re  pmp  ised 
to  you      But,  my  dear  fellow,  Mrs.  Lecount  is 
not  an  ordinary  servant.     You  are  under  oliii- 
gations  to  her  fidelity  and  aitaclnnent  in  your 
father's  time  as  well  as  in  your  own;  and  if 
vou  C(in  (|uiet  the  anxieties  which  seem  to  be 
driving  tlii.s  unfortunate  wom m  mid.  I  ri'ally 
think  yon  oujlit    to   come   here   and    <lo  so. 
Your  leaving  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  is  of  course 
out  of  the  question.     There  is  no  necessity  lor 
any  such   hard-hearted  proceeding.     The  ad- 
miral desires  me  to  remind  you  that  he  is  your 
oldest  frienil   living,  and   that  his  house  is  at 
your  wife's  disposal,  as  it  has  always  been  at 
\ours.  «In  this  great  rambling-pla  e  she  need 
dread  no  near  association  with  the  siik-room; 
and,  with  all  my   urn  h's  oddities,  I  am  sure 
she  will  not  think   the  oiler  of  his  fVieiulship 
an  off  r  to  be  des|»ised. 

'•  Have  I  told  you  already  that  I  went  to 
.Aldborough  to  U\  and  find  a  clew  to  \our 
whereabouts':'  I  can't  be  at  the  Iroulile  of 
lookini:  back  to  se.  ;  so  if  I  have  told  wiu,  I 
tell  vou  again.  The  truth  is,  I  made  an  ac- 
(juiiintance  at  .Aldborough  of  whom  you  know 
someihing,  at  1<  asl  by  report. 

"  After  api)lying  vainly  at  Sea-View,  I 
went  to  the  iiotid  to  incpiire  about  \ou.  The 
lanillady  could  give  me  no  infbrniation  ;  but 
the  moment  I  mentioned  your  name  she  a>ked 
it  I  was  rtlated  to  \ou:  and  whc  I  told  her 
I  was  your  cousin,  she  said  tlu-re  was  a  young 
lady  then  at  the  hotel  who.se  name  was  Van- 
stone also,  who  was  iu  great  distress  about  a 


1D6 


NO  NAME. 


missinfr  relative,  and  who  might  prove  of  some 
use  to  mt',  or  I  to  her,  if  we  knew  of  each 
others  errand  at  Aldborou^rh.  I  had  not  the 
least  idea  who  she  was,  but  I  sent  in  my  card 
at  a  venture,  and  in  five  minutes  afterward  I 
found  myself  in  the  presence  of  one  of  the 
most  charming  woman  these  eyes  ever  looked 
on. 

"  Our  first  words  of  explanation  informed 
me  that  my  family  name  was  known  to  her  by 
repute.  Who  do  you  think  she  was  ?  The 
eldi'fit  daughter  of  my  uncle  and  yours  — 
Andrew  Vanstone.  I  had  often  heard  my 
poor  mother  in  past  years  speak  of  her ijrotheV 
Andrew,  and  I  knew  of  that  sad  story  at 
Combe-Raven.  But  our  families,  as  you  are 
aware,  had  always  been  estranged  ;  and  I  had 
never  seen  my  cliarming  cousin  before.  She 
has  the  dark  eyes  and  hair,  and  the  gentle, 
retiring  manners  that  I  always  admire  in  a 
worn m.  I  don't  want  to  renew  our  old  disa- 
greement about  your  father's  conduct  to  those 
two  sisters,  or  to  deny  that  his  brother  An- 
drew may  have  behaved  badly  to  him;  I  am 
willing  to  admit  that  the  high  moral  position 
he  took  in  the  matter  is  quite  unassailable  by 
such  a  miserable  sinner  as  I  am ;  and  I  will 
not  dispute  that  my  own  spendthrift  habits 
incapacitate  me  from  offering  any  opinion  on 
the  conduct  of  other  peopl  's  pecuniarv  af- 
fairs; But,  with  all  these  allowances'  and 
drawbacks,  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  Noel :  if 
you  ever  see  the  elder  Miss  Vansrone,  I  ven- 
ture to  prophesy  that  for  the  first  time  in  j'our 
life  you  will  doubt  the  propriety  of  following 
your  father's  example. 

"  She  told  me  her  little  story,  poor  thing, 
most  simply  and  unaffectedly.  She  is  now 
occupying  her  se -ond  s'tuition  as  a  governess, 
and.  as  usual,  T,  who  know  evei-ybody,  know 
the  family.  They  are  friends  of  my  uncle's, 
whom  he  his  lost  sight  of  latterly  —  the 
Tyrrels  of  Portland  Place  —  and  they  treat 
Ms<  Vanstone  with  as  much  kindness  and 
consiilei  arion  as  if  she  was  a  member  of  the 
family.  One  of  their  old  servants  accom- 
panied her  to  Aid  borough,  her  object  in  trav- 
elling to  that  pLice  being  what  the  landlady 
of  the  hotel  had  stated  it  to  be.  The  family 
reverses  have,  it  seems,  had  a  serious  effect  on 
Miss  Vanstone's  younger  .sister,  who  has  left 
her  friends,  and  who  has  been  missing  from 
home  for  some  time.  She  had  been  last  heard 
of  at  Aldborough  ;  and  her  elder  sister,  on 
her  return  from  the  Continent  with  the  Tyr- 
rels, had  instantly  set  out  to  make  inquiries  at 
that  place. 

"  This  was  all  IMiss  Vanstone  told  me.  She 
asked  whether  you  had  seen  anything  of  her 
sister,  or  whether  Mrs.  Lecount  knew  any- 
thing of  her  sister — I  suppo.se  because  she  was 
aware  you  had  been  at  Aldborough.  Of 
course  I  could  tell  her  nothing.  She  entered 
into  no  details  on  the  subject,  and  I  could  not 
presume  to  ask  her  for  any.  All  I  did  was  to 
set  to  work  with  might  and  main  to  assist  her 


inquiries.  The  attempt  was  an  utter  failure — 
nobody  could  give  us  any  information.  We 
tried  personal  description,  of  course ;  and, 
strange  to  say,  the  only  young  la<iy  formerly 
staying  at  Aldborough  who  answered  the  de- 
scription was,  of  all  the  people  in  the  world, 
the  lady  you  have  married  !  If  she  had  not 
had  an  uncle  and  aunt  (both  of  whom  have 
L'ft  the  place),!  should  have  begun  to  suspect 
that  you  had  married  your  cousin  without 
knowing  it !  Is  this  the  clew  to  the  mystery  ? 
Don't  be  angry ;  I  nmst  have  my  little  joke, 
and  I  can't  help  writing  as  carelessly  as  I 
talk.  The  end  of  it  was,  our  incjuiries  were 
all  baffled,  and  I  travelled  back  with  Miss 
Vanstone  and  her  attendant  as  far  as  our 
station  here.  I  think  I  shall  call  on  the 
Tyrrels  when  I  am  next  in  London.  I  have 
certainly  treated  that  family  with  the  most 
inexcusable  neglect. 

"  Mere  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  third  sheet 
of  note-paper !  I  don't  often  take  the  pen  in 
hand,  but  when  I  do  you  will  agree  Avith  me 
that  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  lay  it  aside  again. 
Treat  the  rest  of  my  letter  as  you  like,  but 
consider  what  I  have  told  you  about  Mrs. 
Lecount,  and  remember  that  time  is  of  con- 
sequence. 

"  Ever  yours, 

"  Georgk  Bartram." 

II. 

FROM  NORAH  VANSTONE  TO  M1S8  OARTH. 

"  Portland  Placic. 

"My  dear  Miss  Garth — More  sorrow, 
more  disappointment!  I  have  just  returned 
from  Aldborough  without  mtiking  any  discov- 
ery.    Magdalen  is  still  lost  to  us. 

"  I  can  not  attribute  this  new  overthrow  of 
my  hopes  to  any  want  of  perseverance  or  pen- 
etration in  making  the  necessary  inquiries. 
^ly  inexperience  in  such  matters  was  most 
kindly  and  unexpectedly  assisted  by  Mr. 
Geoige  Bartram.  By  a  strange  coincidence 
he  happened  to  he  at  Aldborough  inquiring- 
after  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  at  the  very  time 
when  I  was  there  inquiring  after  Magdalen, 
lie  sent  in  his  card  ;  and  knowing,  when  I 
looked  at  the  name,  that  he  was  my  cousin  — 
if  I  may  call  him  so  —  I  thought  there  would 
be  no  impropriety  in  my  seeing  him  and  ask- 
ing his  advice.  I  abstained  from  entering 
into  particulars  for  Magdalen's  sake,  and  I 
made  no  allusion  to  that  letter  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  which  you  answered  for  me.  I  only 
told  him  INIagdalen  was  missing,  and  had  been 
last  heard  of  at  Aldborough.  The  kindness 
which  he  showed  in  devoting  himself  to  my 
assistance  exceeds  all  description.  He  treated 
me,  in  my  forlorn  situation,  with  a  delicacy 
and  respect  which  I  shall  remember  gratefully 
long  after  he  has  himself,  perhaps,  forgotten 
our  meeting  altogether.  He  is  (juite  young — 
not  more  than  thirty,  I  should  think.  In  face 
and  figure  he  reminded  me  a  little  of  the 
portrait  of  my  father  at  Combe-Raven  —  I 


NO  NAME. 


197 


mean  the  portrait  in  the  dining-room  of  my 
father  when  he  was  a  young  man. 

"  Useless  as  our  inquiries  were,  there  is  one 
result  of  I  hem  wliich  has  left  a  very  strange 
and  shocking  impression  on. my  mind. 

"  It  appears  that  Mr.  Noel   Vanstone   has 
lately    married,    under     mysterious    eircum- 
stances,   a  young  lady   wliom   he   met  with 
at    Aldborougli,    naniocl    Bygrave.     lie    has 
gone  away  with  Iiis  wife,  telling  nobody  but 
his   lawyer   where   he   has   gone   to.     This   I 
heard  from  Mr.   George  Bartram,    who    was 
endeavoring   to   traee   him,   for   the   purpose 
of  communicating    the    news   of    his   house- 
keeper's serious  illness,  the  housekeeper  being 
the  same  Mrs.  Lecount  whose,  letter  you  an- 
swered.    So  far,  you  may  say,  there  *^  noth- 
ing which  need  particularly  interest  either  of 
us.    But  I  think  you  will  be  as  much  surpriseil 
as  T  was  when  1  tell  you  that  the  descri|)tion 
given   by  the  people  at  Aid  borough  of  Miss 
Bygrave's  appearance  is  most  startlingly  and 
unaccountably   like   the  description  of  Mag- 
dalen's appearance.     This  discovery,  taken  in 
connection    with    all    the   circumstances  we 
know  of.  has  ha<l  an  pfTcct  on  my  mind  which 
I  can  not  describe  to  you,  which   I  dare  not  | 
realize  to   myself     Pray  come   and  see  me  !  I 
I   have  -never   felt  so   wretclied   about    Mag-  i 
dalen   as  I   feel   now.     Suspense    must    have  j 
weakeneil  my  nerves  in  some  strange  way.     I 
feel   superstitious  about  the   slightest   things.  ' 
This  accidental  resemblance  of  a  total  .^stranger  I 
to  Magdalen   fills   me,  every  now   and    then,  } 
with    the    most    horrible    misgivings,    morelv  | 
becau.se  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  nan)e  happens 
to  be  mixed  up   with   it.     Once  more,  prav  , 
come  to  me  ;  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you  ' 
that  I  can  not  and  dare  not  .say  in  writing.        i 
"  Gratefully  and  affectionately  yours.  ' 

"NORAH."  I 

m.  *  I 

FUOM    XIR.    JOHN    I.OSCOMUB    (SOLICITOR)  TD    GEOROE  | 

BARTRAM,    ESQ.  i 

I 
"Liscoix's  Isx.  Lo.vDo.N,  StpUmbtr  6,  1847.      i 

"  Sir — I  beg  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of! 
your  note  inclosing  a  letter  addressed  fo  mv  ' 
client,  .Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  and  requestin":  that 
I   will   forward  the  same  to  Mr.   Vanstone's  ! 
present  a<ldress.  I 

"  Since  I  last  had  the  pleasure  of  communi-  I 
eating  with  you  on  this  subject  my  position 
toward  my  client  is  ei  tirely  altered.     Three  ' 
days  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  him  wliich  | 
stateil  his  intention  of  changing  his  pla -e  of 
residence  on  the  next  day  then  ensuin;:,  but 
which   left  me  entirely  in   iirnorance  on  the 
subject  of  the  locality  fo  wlii(  h  it  was  his  in- 
tention to  remove.     I  have  not  heard  from  him 
since ;  and,  as  he  had  previously  drawn  on  me 
for  a  larger  sum  of  money  than  usual,  there 
would  be  no  [.nsent  iieeesMty  for  his  writing 
to  me  again  —  assuming  that  it  is  his  wish  to 


keep  his  place  of  i-esidence  concealed  from 
every  one,  myself  included. 

"  Under  these  circumstances  I  think  it  right 
to  return  you  your  letter,  with  the  assurance 
that  I  will  let  you  know  if  I  happen  to  be 
a<:ain  placed  in  a  position  to  forward  it  to  its 
destination. 

"  Your  obedient  servant,       ■> 

"  JoUN  LOSCO.MBK." 

IV. 

from  norah  vanstoxe  to  mi8h  garth. 

"  Portland  1»lacl. 

"My  dear  Miss  Garth — Forget  the  let- 
ter I  wrote  to  you  yesterday,  and  all  the 
gloomy  forebodings  that  it  contains.  This 
morning's  post  has  brought  new  lit'e  to  me.  I 
have  just  received  a  letter  addressed  to  me  at 
your  house,  and  forwarded  here,  in  your  ab- 
sence fi-om  home  yesterday,  by  your  sister. 
Can  you  gue.ss  who  the  writer  is  ?     Magdalen  ! 

"  The  letter  is  very  short ;  it  seems  to  have 
been  written  in  a  hurry.  She  says  she  has 
been  dreaming  of  me  for  some  nights  past,  and 
the  dreams  have  made  her  fear  that  her  long 
silence  has  caused  me  more  distress,  on  her 
account,  than  she  is  worth.  She  writes,  there- 
fore, to  assure  me  that  she  is  safe  and  well  — 
that  she  hopes  to  see  me  before  long — and  that 
she  has  something  to  tell  me,  when  we  meet, 
which  will  try  my  sisterly  lovc  for  her  as  noth- 
ing has  tried  it  yet.  The  letter  is  not  dated; 
but  the  post-mark  is  '  Allonby,'  which  I  have 
found,  on  referring  to  the  Gazetteer,  to  be  a 
little  sea-side  place  in  Cumberland.  There  is 
no  hope  of  my  being  able  to  write  back;  for 
Magdalen  expressly  sa\  s  that  she  is  on  the  eve 
of  departure  from  her  present  residence,  and 
that  she  is  not  at  liberty  to  say  where  she  is 
going  to  ne.xt,  or  to  leave  instructions  for  for- 
warding any  letters  after  her. 

"  In  happier  times  1  should  have  thought 
this  letter  very  far  from  being  a  satisfactory 
one — and  I  should  have  been  seriousl*  alarmed 
by  that  allusion  to  a  future  confidence  on  her 
part  wliich  will  try  my  love  for  her  as  nothing 
has  tried  it  yet.  But  after  all  the  suspense  I 
have  suffered  the  haj'piness  of  seeing  her  hand- 
writing again  seems  to  fill  my  heart,  and  to 
keej)  all  other  feelings  out  of  it.  I  lion't  send 
you  her  letter,  because  I  know  you  are  coming 
to  me  soon,  and  I  want  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  read  it. 

"  Ever  aflectionately  yours, 

"  NORAII. 

"  P.  S. — Mr.  George  Bartram  called  on  Mrs. 
Tyrrel  to-day.  He  insisted  on  being  intro- 
duced to  the  children.  When  he  was  gone, 
Mrs.  Tyrrel  laughed  in  her  good-humored  wav, 
and  .said  that  his  anxiety  to  see  the  children 
looked,  to  her  mind,  very  much  like  an  anxiety 
to  see  7ne.  Yon  may  imagine  how  mv  s[)irits 
are  improved  when  I  can  occupy  my  pen  in 
writing  such  nouseuse  as  this!" 


1»8 


NO  ^Aiui:. 


V. 

moil    MRS.  LECOPNT    TO    MU.  DE    BLEKIOT,  GENERAL 
AGENT,  LONDON. 

"St   Crux    Octr,be7-  23,  1847. 

"  Dkau  SrR — 1  have  been  long  in  thanking 
,ou  for  the  kind  letter  which  promised  me  your 
assistance,  in  friendly  remembrance  of  the 
roipmerei{j^l  relations  formerly  existing  between 
my  brother  and  yourself.  The  truth  is.  I  have 
overtasked  my  strength  on  my  recovery  fi'om 
H  long  and  dangerous  illness;  and  for  the  last 
ten  days  I  have  been  suffering  under  a  relapse. 
1  am  now  better  again,  and  able  to  enter  on 
ilie  business  which  you  so  kindly  offer  to  un- 
dertake for  me. 

'•  The  person  whose  present  place  of  abode 
It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  me  to  discover 
is  IVIr.  Noel  Vanstone.  I  have  lived  for  many 
years  past  in  this  gentleman's  service  as  house- 
Iceeper,  and,  not  having  received  my  formal 
di-imissal,  I  consider  myself  in  his  service  still. 
During  ray  absence  on  the  Continent  he  was 
privately  married  at  Aldborough,  in  Suffolk, 
on  the  eighteenth  of  Au;.nist  last.  Me  left 
Aldborough  the  s»me  day,  taking  his  wife  with 
hira  to  .«ome  place  of  retreat  which  was  kept  a 
•secret  from  everybody  ex  ept  his  lawyer,  Mr. 
Loscombe,  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  After  a  short 
time  he  again  removed,  on  the  4th  of  Septem- 
ber, without  informing  Mr.  Loscombe  on  this 
occasion  of  his  new  place  of  abode.  From 
chat  date  to  this  the  lawyer  has  remained  (or 
has  pretended  to  remain)  in  total  ignorance  of 
where  he  now  is.  Application  has  been  made 
to  Mr.  Loscombe,  under  the  circumstances,  to 
mention  what  that  former  place  of  residence 
was  of  which  Mr.  Vanstone  is  known  to  have 
informed  him.  Mr.  Loscombe  has  declineil 
at'ceding  to  this  refjucst  for  want  of  formal 
permission  to  disclose  his  client's  proceedings 
after  leaving  Aldborough.  I  have  all  these 
latter  particulars  from  ]\Ir.  Loscombe's  corre- 
spondent— the  nepliew  of  the  gentleman  who 
owns  this  hou>ie,  and  whose  charity  has  given 
me  an  asylum,  during  the  heavy  affliction  of 
my  sil•kn^'ss,  under  his  own  roof 

"  I  believe  the  reasons  which  have  induced 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  keep  himself  and  his 
wife  in  hiding  are  reasons  which  relate  entire- 
ly to  myself.  In  the  first  place,  he  is  aware 
that  the  circumstances  under  which  he  has 
married  are  such  as  to  give  me  the  light  of 
regarding  him  with  a  just  indignation.  In  the 
second  place,  he  knows  that  my  faithful  ser- 
vices, rendered  through  a  period  of  twenty 
years,  to  his  father  and  to  himself,  forbid  him, 
in  common  decency,  to  cast  me  out  hel))lessoM 
the  world  without  a  provision  for  the  end  of 
my  life.  He  is  the  meanest  of  living  men, 
and  his  wife  is  the  vilest  of  living  women.  As 
long  as  he  can  avoid  fulfilling  his  obligations 
to  me  he  will,  and  his  wife's  encouragement 
may  be  trusted  to  fortify  him  in  his  ingrati- 
tude. 

"  My  object  in  determining  to  find  him  out 
is  briefly  this :  His  marriage  has  exposed  him 


to  consequences  which  a  man  of  ten  times  his 
courage  could  not  face  without  shrinking.  Of 
those  consequences  he  knows  nothing.  His 
wife  knows,  and  keeps  him  in  ignorance.  I 
know,  and  can  enlighten  him.  His  secui'ity 
from  the  danger  that  threatens  him  is  in  my 
hands  alone,  and  he  shall  pay  the  price  of  his 
rescue  to  the  last  farthing  of  the  debt  that 
justice  claims  for  me  as  my  due — namore  and 
no  less.   - 

"  I  have  now  laiil  my  mind  before  you,  as 
you  told  me,  without  reserve.  You  know  why 
I  want  to  find  this  man,^nd  what  I  mean  to 
do  when  I  find  him.  I  leave  it  to  your  sym- 
pathy for  me  to  answer  the  serious  (juestion 
that  remains.  How  is  the  discovery  to  be 
made  ? ,,  If  a  first  trace  of  them  can  be  found 
after  their  departure  from  Aldborough,  I  be- 
lieve careful  inquiry  will  suffice  for  the  rest. 
The  personal  appearance  of  the  wife,  and  the 
extraordinary  contrast  between  her  husband 
and  herself,  are  certain  to  be  remarked  and 
remembered  by  every  stranger  who  sees  them. 

"  When  you  favor  me  with  your  answer, 
please  address  it  to  'Care  of  Admiral  B  ir- 
tram,  St.  Crux -in -the -Marsh,  near  Ossory, 
Essex.' 

"  Your  much  obliged, 

"ViiiGiNiK  Lecount." 

VL 

FROM  VR.  PE  BLERIOT  TO  MRS.  LECOUNT. 

"Dark's  Bdtldings.  KiNrjsLAND, 
Octo'ier  25.  1S47. 

[private   A>rD  CONFIDENTIAL.] 

"  Deau  Madam — I  hasten  to  reply  to  your 
favor  of  Siturdiy's  date.  Circum-itances 
have  enabled  me  to  tbrw  ird  your  Interests  by 
consulting  a  friend  of  mine  po-ssessing  great 
experience  in  the  mimagement  of  private  in- 
quiries of  all  sorts.  I  have  placed  j'our  case 
before  him  (wiiliout  mentioning  names),  and 
I  am  happy  to  inform  you  that  my  views  and 
his  views  of  the  proper  course  to  take  agree 
in. every  particular. 

"  Both  myself  and  friend,  then,  are  of  opin- 
ion that  little  or  nothing  can  be  done  toward 
tracing  thfe  parties  you  mention  until  the  place 
of  their  tempoi'ary  residence,  after  they  left 
Aldborough,  has  been  discovered  first.  If 
this  can  be  done,  the  sooner  it  is  done  the 
better.  Judging  from  your  letter,  some  weeks 
must  have  passed  since  the  lawyer  received 
his  information  that  they  had  shifted  their 
quarters.  As  they  ar»i  both  remarkable-look- 
ing people,  the  stringers  who  may  have  as- 
sisted them  on  their  travels  have  probably  not 
forgotten  them  yet.  Nevertheless,  expeditiou 
is  desirable. 

"  The  question,  for  you  to  consider  is, 
whether  they  maj'  not  possibly  have  commu- 
nicated the  address  of  which  we  stand  in  need 
to  some  other  person  besides  the  lawyer.  The 
husband  maj'  have  written  to  members  of  his 
family,  or  tiie  wife  may  have  written  to  mem- 
bers of  her  family.     Both  myself  and  friend 


fsTT)  NAME. 


199 


are  of  opinion  that  the  latter  chance  is  the 
likeliest  of  the  two.  If  you  have  any  means 
of  access  in  the  direction  of  the  wife's  family, 
-we  stronuly  recommend  you  to  make  use  of 
them.  If  not,  please  supply  us  with  the  names 
of' any  of  her  near  relations  or  intimate  fe- 
male .friemls  whom  you  know,  and  we  will 
endeavor  to  jjet  access  for  \'ou. 

"  In  anv  case  we  riHjuest  you  will  at  once 
favor  us  with  the  most  exact  personal  di-scrip- 
tion  that  can  be  written  of  both  the  parties. 
AVe  may  re(inire  your  as.^istance  in   this  im- 

iiortant  particular  at  five  minut  s  notice, 
j'avor  us.  therefore,  with  the  descri|)tion  by 
return  of  post.  In  the  meantime  we  will 
endeavor  to  ascertain  on  our  siiie  whether  any 
information  is  to  be  privately  obtained  at  ISIr. 
Losconibe's  oflice.  The  lawyer  himself  is 
proVtably  ahoirether  beyond  our  reach.  Rut 
if  any  one  of  his  clerks  can  l)e  advantap:eous- 
ly  treated  with  on  such  terms  as  may  not 
overtax  your  pecuniary  resources,  accept  my  i 
assurance  that  the  opportunity  shall  be  made  i 
the  most  of  l)y,  i 

"  Dear  Madam,  your  faithful  servant,  1 

"Alfked  Dk  Bi.kkiot.''  | 

VII. 

FROM  MR.  rENnniL  TO  xonxn  vanstont,. 

VSearle  Street,  October '21.  1847. 

"  ]\Iv  DKAR  Miss  V.wsto.vk  —  A  lady, 
named  Lecount  (tbrmerly  attached  to  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  service  in  the  capacity  of 
housekeeper),  has  called  at  my  oflice  this 
mornin<r,  and  has  asked  me  to  furnish  her 
with  your  aildress.  I  have  begged  her  to  ex- 
cuse my  immediate  compliance  with  her  re- 
quest, and  to  favor  me  with  a  call  to-morrow 
morning,  when  I  shall  be  prepared  to  meet 
her  with  a  definite  answer 

."  My  hesiia'ion  in  th  s  matter  does  not  pro- 
ceed from  any  distrust  of  .Mrs.  Lecount  per- 
sonally, tor  I  know  nothing  wliatever  to  her 
])rcjudice.  But  in  making  her  re<iu.  sr  to  me 
«he  stated  th  it  the  object  of  the  desired  inter- 
view was  to  speak  to  you  privately  on  the 
•subject  of  your  sister.  Forgive  me  f<ir  ac- 
knowledging that  I  determined  to  withhohl 
the  address  as  soon  as  I  heard  this.  You  will 
make  allowances  (or  your  old  friend  and  ycjur 
sincere  well-wisher?  You  will  not  take  it 
amiss  if  I  express  my  strong  <lisapproval  of 
your  allowing  yourself,  on  any  pretense  what- 
ever, to  be  mixed  np  for  the  future  with  your 
sister's  proceedings. 

"  I  will  not  distress  you  by  saving  more 
than  this.  But  I  feel  too  «Jeep  an  interest  in 
your  wtdfare,  and  too  simerc  an  admiration  of 
tJie  patience  with  which  you  have  borne  all 
ymir  trials,  to  say  less. 

*^  W  I  can  not  prevail  on  you  to  follow  my 
advice,  \ou  have  only  to  say  so.  ai  d  Mrs.  Le- 
count irtiall  have  your  address  to  morrow.  In 
this  case  (which  I  can  not  contemplate  without 
thfigreatert  nowillingness),  let  me  at  least  rec- 


ommend you  to  stipulate  that  Miss  Garth 
should  be  present  at  the  interview.  In  any 
matter  with  which  jour  sister  is  concerned 
you  may  want  an  old  friend's  advi  e  and  an 
old  friend's  protection  against  your  own  gener- 
ous impulses.  If  I  could  have  helped  you  in 
this  way  I  would;  but  Mrs.  Lecount  gave  me 
indirectly  to  understand  that  the  sulycct  to 
be  (lis  ussed  was  of  too  deliiate  a  nature  to 
permit  of  my  presence.  Whaievor  this  objec- 
tion may  he  really  worth,  it  can  not  apjily  to 
iMiss  Garth,  who  has  brought  you  both'  up 
from  childhood.  I  say  again,  therefore,  if  you 
see  Mrs.  Lecount,  see  her  in  Miss  Garth's 
company.  ^ 

"Always  most  truly  yours, 

•  -'William  Pendrii,." 

VTII. 

FROM    NORAH    VAXSTO.VB    TO    MR.    rBNDRII.. 

"PoRTiASD  Place,  H'ecfn«d<i.v. 
Dkar  Mr.  PKNDijir,— Pray  don't  think  1 
am  ungrateful  for  your  kindness.  Indeeil,  in- 
deed, I  am  not!  But  1  must  see  I\Irs.  Leconnl. 
You  were  not  aware,  when  you  wrote  to  me. 
that  I  had  received  a  few  lines  Irom  Mag<la- 
len  —  not  telling  me  wliere  she  is,  but  holding 
out  the  hope  of  our  meeting  before  long.  Per- 
1  haps  Mrs.  Lecount  may  have  something  to  say 
to  me  on  this  very  subject?  Even  if  it  should 
not  be  so,  my  sister  —  do  what  she  may  —  is 
still  my  sister.  1  can't  desert  her;  I  can't 
turn  my  back  on  any  one  who  comes  to  me  in 
her  name.  You  know,  dear  Mr.  Pendrii,  I 
have  always  l>een  obstinate  on  this  subject: 
ami  you  have  always  borne  with  me.  Let  me 
owe  another  ol)ligation  to  you  which  I  can 
never  retu'n — and  f)ear  with  me  still! 

"Need  I  say  that  I  willingly  accept  tiiai 
part  of  your  advice  which  refers  to  Miss 
Garth?  I  have  already  written  to  beg  that 
she  will  come  here  at  four  o'clo -k  to-morrow 
afternoon.  When  you  .«ee  Mrs.  Lecount. 
please  inform  her  that  Miss  Garth  will  bc 
with  me.  and  that  she  will  find  us  both  ready 
to  receive  her  here  to-morrow  at  four  o'clock. 
"  Gratefully  yours. 

"NuRAIl  Vanstone." 

IX. 

rnOM    MR.    DP    BLERIOT    TO    MRS.    LKCOUN'T. 

'•DvnK'g  BlILWNCg.  October  2S. 
(rBivAre.j 

"Dear  Madam — One  of  Mr.  Loscombe*,-< 
clerks  has  prove<l  amenable  to  a  small  pecu- 
niary consideration,  and  has  mentioned  a  cir- 
cumstance which  it  may  be  of  some  impor- 
taixe  to  you  to  know. 

•' Nearly  a  month  since  accident  gave  th< 
clerk  in  question  an  opportunity  of  looking  in- 
to one  of  the  documents  on  histnaster's  table, 
which  ha<l  attracted  his  attention  from  a  slight 
pe.  uliaritv  in  the  form  and  <olorof  the  paper. 
He  ha<l  only  time,  durin?  Mr.  Loscombe's  mo- 
mentary absence,  to  ..satisfy  his  curiositv  bv 


2C0 


NO  NAME. 


lookinjr  at  the  beginning  of  the  document  and 
at  the  end.  At  the  beginning  he  saw  the 
customary  form  used  in  making  a  will.  At 
the  end  he  di-covered  the  signature  of  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone,  with  the  names  of  two  wit- 
nesses underneath,  and  the  date  (of  which  he 
is  quite  certain)  —  the  thirtieth  of  September 
last. 

'•Before  the  clerk  had  time  to  make  any  fur- 
ther investigations  his  master  returned,  foi'ted 
the  papers  on  the  table,  and  carefully  locked 
up  the  will  in  the  strong  box  devoted  to  the 
custody  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  documents. 
It  has  been  ascertained  that  at  the  close  of 
September  Mr.  Loscombe  was  absent  from  the 
office.  If  he  was  then  employed  in  superin- 
tending the  execution  of  his  client's  will  — 
which  IS  quite  possible — it  follows  clearly  that 
he  was  in  the  secret  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  ad- 
dress, after  the  removal  of  the  4th  of  Septem- 
ber ;  and  if  you  can  do  nothing  on  your  side, 
it  may  be  desirable  to  have  the  lawyer  watch- 
ed on  ours.  In  any  case  it  is  certainly  ascer- 
tained that  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  made  his 
will  since  his  marriage.  I  leave  you  to  draw 
your  own  conclusions  from  that  fact,  and  re- 
main, in  the  hope  of  hearing  from  you  shortly, 
"  Your  faithful  servant, 

"Alfred  De  Blekiot." 


PROM    MISS    OARTH    TO    Mil.    PBNDRIL. 

•'Portland  Placb,  October  28. 

''My  dear  Sir — Mrs.  Lecount  has  just 
left  us.  If  it  was  not  too  late  to  wish,  I  should 
wish  from  the  bottom  of  ray  heart  that  Norali 
had  taken  your  advi«e,  and  had  refused  to  see 
her. 

"  I  write  in  such  distress  of  mind  that  I  can 
not  hope  to  give  you  a  clear  and  complete  ac- 
count of  the  interview.  I  can  only  tell  you 
briefly  what  ISIrs.  Lecount  has  done,  and  what 
our  situation  now  is.  The  rest  must  be  left 
until  I  am  more  composed,  and  until  1  can 
speak  to  you  personally. 

"  You  will  remember  my  informing  you  of 
the  letter  which  Mrs.  Lecount  addressed  to 
Norah  from  Aldborough,  and  which  I  answer- 
ed for  her  in  iier  absence.  When  Mrs.'  Le- 
count made  her  appearance  to-day',  her  first 
words  announced  to  us  that  she  had  come  to 
renew  the  subject.  As  well  as  I  can  remem- 
ber it,  this  is  what  she  said,  addressing  hersell 
to  Norah : 

»"  I  wrote  to  you  on  the  subject  of  your  sis- 
ter, Miss  Vanstone,  some  little  time  since ; 
and  Miss  Garth  was  so  good  as  to  answer  the 
letter.  What  I  feared  at  that  time  has  come 
true.  Y'our  sister  has  defied  all  my  efforts  to 
check  her;  she  has  disappeared  in  company 
with  my  master,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone;  and  she 
is  now  in  a  position  of  danger,  which  may  lead 
to  her  disgrace  and  ruin  at  a  moment's  notice. 
It  is  my  interest  to  recover  ray  master;  it  is 
your  interest  to  save  your  sister.     Tell  rae  — 


for  time  is  precious  —  have  you  any  news  of 
her?' 

"  Norah  answered,  as  well  as  her  terror  and 
distress  would  allow  her,  '  I  have  had  a  letter, 
but  there  was  no  address  on  it.' 

"  Mrs.  Lecount  asked,  '  Was  there  no  post- 
mark on  the  envelope  V 

"  Norah  said,  '  Yes,  Allonby.' 

"'Allonby  is  better  than  nothing,'  said  Mrs. 
Lecount.  'Allonby  may  help  you  to  trace  her. 
Where  is  Allonby?' 

"  Norah  told  her.     It  all  passed  in  a  min- 
ute.    I  had  been  too  much  confused  and  star-  I 
tied  to  interfere  before,  but  I  composed  myself 
sufficiently  to  interfere  now. 

"  '  You  have  entered  into  no  particulars,*  I 
said.  '  You  have  only  frightened  us  —  you 
have  toM  us  nothing.' 

" '  You  shall  hear  the  particulars,  ma'am,' 
said  Mrs.  Lecount;  'and  you  and  Miss  Van- 
stone shall  judge  for  yourselves  if  I  have 
frightened  you  without  a  cause.' 

"  Upon  this  she  entered  at  once  upon  a  long 
narrative,  whith  I  can  not  —  I  might  almost 
say,  which  I  dare  not — repeat.  You  will  un- 
derstand the  horror  we  both  felt  when  I  tell 
you  the  end.  If  Mrs.  Lecount's  statement  is 
to  be  relied  on,  Magdalen  has  carried  her  mad 
resolution  of  recovering  her  father's  fortune 
to  the  last  and  most  desperate  extremity — she 
has  married  Michael  Vanstone's  sou  under  a 
false  name.  Her  husband  is  at  this  moment 
still  persuaded  that  her  maiden  narae  was  By- 
grave,  and  that  she  is  really  the  niece  of  a 
scoundrel  who  assisted  her  imposture,  and 
whom  I  recognize  by  the  description  of  him 
to  have  been  Captain  Wragge. 

"I  spare  you  Mrs.  Lecount's  cool  avowal, 
when  she  rose  to  leave  us,  of  her  own  merce- 
nary motives  in  wishing  to  discover  her  mas- 
ter and  to  enlighten  him.  I  spare  you  the 
hints  she  dropped  of  l^Iagdalen's  purpose  in 
contracting  this  infamous  marriage.  The  one 
aim  and  object  of  my  letter  is  to  implore  you 
to  assist  me  in  quieting  Norah's  anguish  of 
mind.  Tlie  shock  she  has  received  at  hearing 
this  news  of  her  sister  is  not  the  worst  result 
of  what  has  happened.  She  has  persuaded 
herself  that  the  answers  she  innocently  gave 
in  her  distress  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  questions  on 
the  subject  of  the  letter  —  the  answers  wrung 
from  her  under  the  sudden  pressure  of  confu- 
sion and  alarm  —  may  be  used  to  Magdalen'? 
prejudice  by  the  woman  who  purposely  star- 
tled her  into  giving  the  information.  I  can 
only  prevent  her  from  taking  some  desperate 
step  on  her  side --some  step  by  which  she 
may  forfeit  the  friendship  and  protection  of 
the  excellent  people  with  whom  she  is  now 
living  —  by  reminding  her  that  if  Mrs.  Le- 
count traces  her  master  by  means  of  the  post- 
mark on  the  letter,  we  may  trace  Magdalen 
at  the  same  time,  and  by  the  same  means. 
Whatever  objection  you  may  personally  feel 
to  renewing  the  efforts  for  the  rescue  of  this 
miserable  girl,  which  failed  so  lamentably  at 


NO  NAME. 


201 


York,  I  entreat  you,  for  Norah's  sake,  to  take 
the  same  steps  now  which  we  took  then. 
Send  me  tlie  only  assurance  which  will  quiet 
her  —  the  assurance,  under  your  own  hand, 
that  the  search  on  our  side  has  begun.  If 
you  will,  do  this,  you  may  trust  me,  when 
the  time  comes,  to  stand  between  these  two 
sisters,  and  to  defend  Norah's  peace,  charac- 
ter, and  future  prosperity,  at  any  price. 
"  Most  sincerely  yours, 

"  HaKKIKT  (i.VRTH." 

XI. 

FllOM    MRS.    LKCOUNT    TO    MK.    JIT.    BI.ElllOT. 

"  October  28. 

"  Dkar  Sir  —  I  have  found  the  trace  you 
wanted.  Mrs.  Noel  Van.stone  has  written  to 
her  sister.  The  letter  contains  no  address; 
but  the  post-mark  is  Allonby,  in  Cumberland. 
From  Allonby,  therefore,  the  inquiries  must 
beo^in.  You  have  already  in  your  possession 
the  personal  description  of  both  husband  and 
wife.  I  urgently  recommend  you  not  to  lose 
one  unnecessary  moment.  If  it  is  possible  to 
send  to  Cumberland  immediately  on  receipt 
of  this  letter,  I  l)eg  you  will  do  so. 

"  I  have  another  word  to  say  before  I  close 
my  letter  —  a  word  about  the  discovery  in 
Mr.  Loscombe's  office. 

"  It  is  no  surprise  to  me  to  hear  that  Mr. 
Noel   Vanstone   has  made  his  will  since  his 
marriage  ;  and  I  am  at  no  loss  to  guess  in 
whose  tiavor  the  will  is  made.     If  1  succeed  in 
finding  my  master  —  let  that  person  get  the 
money,  if  that  person  can  !     A  course  to  fol- 
low ill  this  matter  has  presented  itself  to  my 
mind  since  I  received  your  letter,  but  my  ig- 
1    norance  of  details  of  business  and  intricacies 
of  law  leaves  me  still  uncertain  whether  my 
idea  is  capable  of  ready  and  certain  execu- 
I    tion.     I  will  call  at  your  office  to-morrow  at 
j    two  o'clock  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  you 
:    on   the  subject.      It  is  of  great   importance 
when  1  next  see  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  that  he 
should  find  me  thoroughly  prepared  beibre- 
hand  in  this  matter  of  the  will. 

"  Your  much  obliged  servant, 

'^  "  ViKGINIK  LkCOUNT." 

XII. 

FROM    MU.    PK.NDUIL   TO    MISS    GARTH. 

"  Seablk  Street,  OcUAip.r  29. 

"  Dear  Miss  Garth  —  I  have  only  a  mo- 
ment to  assure  you  of  the  sorrow  with  which  I 
have  road  your  letter.  The  circumstances 
under  which  you  urge  your  request,  and  the 
reasons  you  give  for  making  it,  are  suflicient 
to  silence  any  objection  I  might  otiicrwise  feel 
to  the  course  you  propose.  A  trustworthy 
person,  whom  I  have  myself  instructed,  will 
26 


start  for  Allonby  to-day ;  and  as  soon  as  I  re- 
ceive any  news  from  him,  you  shall  hear  of  it 
by  special  messenger.  Tell  Miss  Vanstone 
this,  and  pray  add  the  sincere  expression  of 
my  sympathy  and  regard. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

"  William  Pendril." 


XIII. 


I' ROM    MR.    DK 


BLERIOT    TO   MRS.    I.ECOUNT. 

"Dark's  Buildings,  ynvrmherX. 

"Dear  Madam  —  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
informing  you  that  the  discovery  has  been 
made  with  far  less  trouble  than  I  had  antici- 
pated. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  have  been 
traced  across  the  Solway  Firth  to  Dumfries, 
and  thence  to  a  cottage  a  few  miles  from  the 
town,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nith.  The  exact 
address  is,  Baliul  Cottage,  near  Dumfries. 

"  This  information,  though  easily  hunted 
up,  has  nevertheless  been  obtained  under 
rather  singular  circumstances. 

"  Before  leaving  Allonby,  the  persons  in  my 
employ  discovered,  to  their  surprise,  that  a 
stranger  was  in  the  place  pursuing  the  same 
inquiry  as  themselves.  In  the  absence  of  any 
instructions  preparing  them  for  such  an  oc- 
currence as  this,  they  took  their  own  view  of 
the  circumstance.  Considering  the  man  as 
an  intruder  on  their  business,  whose  success 
might  deprive  tliem  of  the  credit  and  reward 
of  making  the  discovery,  they  took  advantage 
of  their  superiority  in  numbers,  and  of  their 
being  first  in  the  field,  and  carefully  misled 
the  stranger  before  they  ventured  any  further 
with  their  own  investigations.  I  am  in  pos- 
session of  the  details  of  their  proceedings, 
with  which  I  need  not  trouble  you.  The  end 
is,  that  this  person,  whoever  he  may  be,  was 
cleverly  turned  back  southward,  on  a  false 
scent,  before  the  men  in  my  employment 
crossed  the  Firth. 

"  I  mention  the  circumstance,  as  you  may 
be  better  able  than  I  am  to  find  a  clew  to  it, 
and  as  it  may  possibly  be  of  a  nature  to  induce 
you  to  hasten  your  journey. 

"  Your  faithful  servant, 

"  Alfred  De  Blkriot." 

XIV. 

FllOM    MUS.    I.KCOUNT   TO    MIS.    I)K    Bl.KRrOT. 

'•  Xovcmbtr  1. 

"Dear  Sir — One  line  to  say  that  your 
letter  has  just  reached  mo  at  my  lodging  in 
London.  I  think  I  know  who  sent  the  strange 
man  to  Inquire  at  Allonby.  It  matters  little. 
Before  he  finds  out  his  mistake  I  shall  be  at 
Dumfries.  My  luggage  is  packed,  and  I  start 
lor  the  North  by  the  next  train. 
"  Tour  deeply  obliged, 

"  ViROINIE  LeCOUNT.' 


•202 


NO  NAME. 


THE   FIFTH   SCENE-BALIOL  COTTAGE,  DUMFRIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Toward  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
the  3d  of  November  the. breakfast- table  at 
Baliol  Cottage  presented  that  essentially  com- 
fortless appearance  which  is  caused  by  a  meal 
in  a  state  of  transition  —  that  is  to  say,  by  a 
meal  prepared  for  two  persons,  which  has  been 
already  partaken  of  by  one,  and  which  has  not 
yet  been  approached  by  the  other.  It  must  be 
a  hardy  appetite  which  can  contemplate  with- 
out a  momentary  discouragement  the  battered 
ef^w-shell,  the  tish  half-stripped  to  a  skeleton, 
the  crums  in  the  plate,  and  the  dregs  in  the 
cup.  There  is  surely  a  wise  submission  to  those 
weaknesses  in  human  nature  which  must  be 
respected  and  not  reproved,  in  the  sympathiz- 
ing rapidity  with  which  servants  in  places  of 
public  refreshment  clear  away  all  signs  of  the 
customer  in  the  past  from  the  eyes  of  the  cus- 
tomer in  the  present.  Although  his  predeces- 
sor may  have  been  the  wife  of  his  bosom  or  the 
child  of  his  loins,  no  man  can  find  himself  con- 
fronted at  table  by  the  traces  of  a  vanished 
eater  without  a  passing  sense  of  injury  in  con- 
nection with  the  idea  of  his  own  meal. 

Some  such  impression  as  tliis  found  its  way 
into  the  mind  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  when  he 
entered  the  lonely  breakfast-parlor  at  Baliol 
Cottage  shortly  after  eleven  o'clock-.  He 
looked  at  the  table  with  a  frown,  and  rang  the 
bell  with  an  expression  of  disgust. 

"  Clear  away  this  mess !"  he  said,  when  the 
servant  appeared.   "  Has  your  mistress  gone  ?" 
"Yes,  Sir — nearly  an  hour  ago." 
"  Is  Louisa  down  stairs  '?" 
"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  When  you  have  put  the  table  right  send 
Louisa  up  to  me." 

He  walked  away  to  the  window.  The  mo- 
mentary irritation  passed  from  his  face,  but  it 
left  an  expression  there  which  remained  —  an 
expression  of  pining  discontent.  Personally, 
his  marriage  had  altered  him  for  the  worse. 
His  wizen  little  cheeks  Avere  beginning  to 
shrink  into  hollows  ;  his  frail  little  figure  had 
already  contracted  a  slight  stoop.  The  former 
delicacy  of  his  complexion  had  gone  —  the 
sickly  paleness  of  it  was  all  that  remained. 
His  thin  flaxen  mustaches  were  no  longer  prag- 
matically waxed  and  twisted  into  a  curl :  their 
weak,  feathery  ends  hung  meekly  pendent  over 
the  querulous  corners  of  his  mouth.  If  the 
ten  or  twelve  weeks  since  his  marriage  had 
been  counted  by  his  looks,  they  might  have 
reckoned  as  ten  or  twelve  years.  He  stood  at 
the  window  mechanically  picking  leaves  from 
a  pot  of  heath  placed  in  front  of  it,  and  drear- 
ily humming  the  forlorn  fragment  of  a  tune. 


The  prospect  from  the  window  overlooked 
the  course  of  the  Nith,  at  a  bend  of  the  river 
a  few  miles  above  Dumfries.  Here  and  there, 
through  wintry  gaps  in  the  wooded  bank, 
broad  tracts  of  the  level,  cultivated  valley  met 
the  eye.  Boats  passed  on  the  river,  and  carts 
plodded  along  the  high-road  on  their  way  to 
Dumfries.  The  sky  was  clear ;  the  November 
sun  shone  as  pleasantly  as  if  the  year  had  been 
younger  by  two  good  mouths ;  and  the  view, 
noted  in  Scotland  for  its  bright  and  peaceful 
chai'm,  was  presented  at  the  beat  which  its 
wintry  aspect  could  assume.  If  it  had  been 
hidden  in  mist  or  drenched  with  rain,  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  would,  to  all  appearance,  have 
found  it  as  cittractive  as  he  found  it  now.  He 
waited  at  the  window  until  he  heard  Jvouisa's 
knock  at  the  door— then  turned  back  sullenly 
to  the  breakfast-table  and  told  her  to  come  in. 

"  Make  the  tea,"  he  said.  "  I  know  nothing 
about  it.  I  'm  left  here  neglected.  Nobody 
helps  me." 

The  discreet  Louisa  silently  and  submissive- 
ly obeyed. 

"  Did  your  mistress  leave  any  message  for 
me,"  he  asked,  "  before  she  went  away  V" 

"  No  message  in  particular,  Sir.  My  mis- 
tress only  said  she  should  be  too  late  if  she 
waited  breakfast  any  longer." 

"  Did  she  say  nothing  else  ?" 

"  She  told  me  at  the  carriage-door.  Sir,  that 
she  would  most  likely  be  back  by  the  end  of 
the  week." 

"  Was  she  in  good  spirits  at  the  carriage- 
door?' 

"  No,  Sir.  I  thought  my  mistress  seemed 
very  anxious  and  uneasy.  Is  there  anything 
more  I  can  do,  Sir '?" 

"  I  don't  know.     Wait  a  minute." 

He  proceeded  discontentedly  with  his  break- 
fast.    Louisa  waited  resignedly  at  the  door. 

"  I  think  your  mistress  has  been  in  bad 
spirits  lately,"  he  resumed,  with  a  sudden  out- 
break of  petulance. 

"  My  mistress  has  not  been  verv  cheerful. 
Sir." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  not  very  cheerful  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  prevaricate  ?  Am  I  nobody 
in  the  house '?  Am  I  to  be  kept  in  the  dark 
about  everj'thing  ?  Is  your  mistress  to  go  away 
on  her  own  affairs  and  leave  me  at  home  like 
a  child,  and  am  I  not  even  to  ask  a  question 
about  her  ?  Am  I  to  be  prevaricated  with  by 
a  servant  ?  I  won't  be  prevaricated  with ! 
Not  very  cheerful !  What  do  you  mean  by 
not  very  cheerful  ?" 

"  I  only  meant  that  my  mistress  was  not  In 
good  spirits.  Sir." 

"  Why  couldn't  you  say  it,  then  ?     Don't 


NO  NAME. 


203 


you  know  the  value  of  words?     The  mp8t 
dreadful  consequences  sometimes  happen  frOm 
not  knowing  the  value  of  words.     Did  your 
mistress  tell  you  she  was  going  to  London  ?" 
"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  What  did  you  think  when  your  mistress 
told  you  she  was  going  to  London  ?  Did  you 
think  it  odd  she  was  going  without  me  ?" 

"  [  did  not  presume  to  think  it  odd.  Sir.  Is 
there  anything  more  1  can  do  for  you,  if  you 
please,  Sir  V 

"  Wliat  sort  of  a  morning  is  it  out  ?     Is  it 
warm  V     Ts  the  sun  on  the  garden  ?" 
"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  sun  yourself  on    the 
garden  V" 
'•  Yes,  Sir." 

"Get  me  my  great-coat;  I'll  take  a  little 
turn.  Has  the  man  brushed  it  ?  Did  you  see 
the  man  brush  it  yourself?  What  do  you 
mean  by  saying  he  has  brushed  it.  when  you 
didnt  see  him?  Let  me  look  at  the  tails. 
Tf  there  's  a  speck  of  dust  on  the  tails  I  '11 
turn  the  man  off!     Help  me  on  with  it." 

Loiu'sa  helped  him  on  with  his  coat,  and 
gave  him  his  hat.  He  went  out  irritably. 
The  coat  was  a  large  one  (it  had  belougi'd 
to  his  father)  ;  the  hat  was  a  large  one  (it 
was  a  misfit,  purchased  at  a  bargain  by  him- 
self). He  was  submerged  in  his  hat  and 
coat;  he  lookcil  singularly  small,  and  frail, 
and  niiscral'le,  as  he  slowly  wended  his  wa}', 
in  the  wintry  sunligiit,  ddv-n  the  garden- 
walk.  Tlie  patli  sloped  gently  from  the  back 
of  the  house  to  Ihe  water-side,  irom  which 
it  was  parted  by  a  low  wooden  fence.  After 
pacing  backward  and  forward  slowly  ibr  some 
little  time,  he  stopped  at  the  lower  extremity 
of  the  garden,  and,  leaning  on  the  fence, 
looked  down  listlessly  at  the  smooth  flow  of 
the  river. 

His  thoughts  still  ran  on  the  subject  of  his 
first  fretful  question  to  Louisa  —  he  was  still 
broodinii  over  the  circumstances  under  which 
his  wife  had  left  the  cottage  that  morning, 
and  over  the  want  of  consideration  toward 
liimself  implied  in  the  manner  of  her  depart- 
ure. The  longer  he  thought  of  his  grievance 
the  more  acutely  he  resented  it.  He  was 
capable  of'grcat  tenderness  of  feeling  where 
any  injury  to  his  sense  of  his  own  importance 
was  concerned.  His  head  dropped  little  by 
little  on  his  arms  as  they  rested  on  the  fence; 
and,  in  the  deep  sincerity  of  his  mortification, 
he  sighed  bitterly. 

The  sigh  was  answered  by  a  voice  close  at 
his  side. 

"  You  were  happier  with  me,  Sir,"  said  the 
voice,  in  accents  of  tender  regret. 

He  looked  uj)  with  a  scream — literally  with 
a  scream — and  confronted  Mjjs.  Lecount. 

Was  it  the  spectre  of  the  woman,  or  the 
woman   herself?     Her  hair   was  white;    her 


dress  hung  loose  round  her  wasted  figure ;  not 
a  trace  of  its  buxom  autumnal  beauty  re- 
mained. The  qtiietly  impenetrable  resolution, 
the  smoothly  insinuating  voice — these  were 
the  only  relics  of  the  past  which  gickuess  and 
suffering  had  left  in  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Compose  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said, 
gently.  "  You  have  no  cause  to  be  alarmed 
at  seeing  me.  Your  servant,  when  I  inquired, 
said  you  were  in  the  garden,  and  I  came  here 
to  find  you.  I  have  traced  you  out,  Sir,  with 
no  resentment  against  yourself,  with  no  wish 
to  distress  you  by  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a 
reproach.  1  come  here  on  what  has  been, 
and  is  still,  the  business  of  nn-  life  —  your 
service." 

He  recovered  himself  a  little,  but  he  was 
still  incapable  of  speech.  He  held  fast  by  the 
fence,  and  stared  at  her. 

"  Try  to  possess  your  mind.  Sir,  of  what  I 
say,"  proceeded  IVIrs.  Lecount.  "  I  have  not 
come  here  as  your  enemy,  but  as  your  friend. 
I  have,  been  tried  by  sickness ;  1  have  been 
tried  by  distress.  Nothing  remains  of  me  but 
my  heart.  My  heart  forgives  you  ;  my  heart, 
in  your  sore  need  —  need  which  you  have  yet 
to  feel — places  nie  at  your  service.  Take  my 
arm,  Mr.  Noel.  A  little  turn  in  the  sun  will 
help  you  to  recover  yourself." 

She  put  his  hand  through  her  arm  and 
marched  him  slowly  up  the  garden -walk. 
Before  she  had  been  five  minutes  in  his  com- 
pany she  had  resumed  full  possession  of  him 
in  her  own  right. 

"Now  down  again,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said; 
"  gefttly  down  again  in  this  fine  sunlight.  I 
have  much  to  say  to  you,  Sir,  which  you  never 
e.xpected  to  hear  from  me.  Let  me  ask  a 
little  domestic  (juestion  first.  They  told  me 
at  the  house -do'or  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  was 
gone  away  on  a  journey.  Has  she  gone  for 
long  ?" 

Her  master's  hand  trembled  on  her  arm  as 
she  put  that  question.  Instead  of  answering 
it  he  tried  faintly  to  plead  for  himself.  The 
first  words  that  escaped  him  were  prompted 
by  his  first  returning  sense  —  the  sense  that 
his  housekeeper  had  twjcen  him  into  cus- 
tody. He  tried  to  make  his  peace  v,?ith  Mrs. 
Lecount. 

"  I  always  meant  to  do  something  for  you," 
he  said,  coaxingly.  "  You  would  have  heard 
from  me  before  long — upon  my  word  and 
honor,  Lecount,  you  would  have  heard  from 
me  before  long !" 

"  I  don  t  doubt  it.  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.  le- 
count. "  But  for  the  present  never  mind 
about  me.     You  and  your  interests  first." 

«'  How  did  you  come  here  ?"  he  asked,  look- 
ins  Jit  'i""  '"  astonishment.  "  How  came  you 
to  find  me  out?" 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  Sir ;  I  will  tell  it  you 
some   other  time.     Let  it  be  enough  to  say 


face  had  fallen  away  ;  her  eyes  looked  out  I  now  that  I  have  found  you.  Will  Mrs.  Noel 
large,  bright,  and  haggard  over  her  hollow  be  back  again  at  the  house  to-day  ?  A  little 
cheeks.     She   was   withered    and   old.      Her    louder,  Sir ;  I  can  hardly  hear  you.     So!  so! 


204 


NO  NAME. 


Not  back  again  till  the  end  of  the  -week ! 
And  where  is  she  gone?  To  London,  did 
you  say  ?  And  what  for  ?  I  am  not  inquisi- 
tive, Mr.  Noel ;  I  am  asking  serious  questions 
under  serious  necessity.  Why  has  your  wife 
left  you  here,  and  gone  to  London  by  her- 
self?" ^ 

They  were  down  at  the  fence  again  as  she 
made  that  last  inquiry,  and  they  waited,  lean- 
ing against  it,  while  Noel  Vanstone  answei-ed. 
Her  reiterated  assurances  that  she  bore  him 
no  malice  were  producing  their  effect  on  him : 
he  was  beginning  to  recover  himself  The 
old,  helpless  habit  of  addressing  all  his  com- 
plaints to  his  housekeeper  was  returning  al- 
ready with  the  reappearance  of  Mrs.  Lecount 
—returning  insidiously  in  company  with  that 
besetting  anxiety  to  talk  about  his  grievances 
which  had  got  the  better  of  him  at  the  break- 
fast-table, and  which  had  shown  the  wound 
iHflicted  on  his  vanity  to  his  wife's  maid. 

"  I  can't  answer  for  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone," 
he  said,  spitefully.  "  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  has 
not  treated  me  with  the  consideration  which 
is  my  due.  She  has  taken  my  permission  for 
granted,  and  she  has  only  thought  proper  to 
tell  me  that  the  object  of  herjourney  is  to 
see  her  friends  in  London.  She  went  away 
this  morning  without  bidding  me  good -by. 
She  takes  her  own  way,  as  if  I  was  nobody ; 
she  treats  me  like  a  child.  You  may  not  be- 
lieve it,  Lecount ;  but  I  don't  even  know  who 
her  friends  are.  I  am  left  quite  in  the  dark  ; 
I  am  left  to  guess  for  myself  that  her  friends 
in  London  are  her  uncle  and  aunt." 

Mrs.  Lecount  privately  considered*  the 
question  by  the  help  of  her  own  knowledge 
obtained  in  London.  She  soon  reached  the 
obvious  conclusion.  After  writing  to  her  sis- 
ter in  the  first  instance,  Magdalen  had  now  in 
all  probability  followed  the  letter  in  person. 
There  was  little  doubt  that  the  friends  she 
had  gone  to  visit  in  London  were  her  sister 
and  Miss  Garth. 

"  Not  her  uncle  and  aunt.  Sir,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Lecount,  composedl3\  "  A  secret  for 
your  private  ear !  She  has  no  uncle  and 
aunt.  Another  little  turn  before  I  explain 
myself —  another  little  turn  to  compose  your 
spirits." 

She  took  him  in  custody  once  more,  and 
marched  him  back  toward  the  house. 

"  Mr.  Noel !"  she  said,  suddenly  stopjiing  in 
the  middle  of  the  walk — "  do  you  know  what 
was  the  worst  mischief  j'ou  ever  did  yourself 
in  your  life  ?  I  will  tell  you.  That  worst 
mischief  was  sending  me  to  Zurich." 

His  hand  began  to  tremble  on  her  arm  once 
more. 

"  I  didn't  do  it !"  he  cried,  piteously.  "  It 
was  all  Mr.  Bygrave." 

"  You  acknowledge.  Sir,  that  Mr.  Bygrave 
deceived  me  f"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount.  "I 
am  glad  to  hear  that.  You  will  be  all  the 
readier  to  make  the  next  discovery  which  is 
waiting  for  you  —  the  discovery  that  Mr.  By- 


grave  has  deceived  you.  He  is  not  here  t* 
slip  through  my  fingers  now,  and  I  am  not  the 
helpless  woman  in  this  place  that  I  was  at 
Aldborough,  thank  God  !" 

She  uttered  that  devout  exclamation  through 
her  set  teeth.  All  her  hatred  of  Captain 
Wragge  hissed  out  of  her  lips  in  those  two 
words. 

"  Oblige  me,  Sir,  by  holding  one  side  of  my 
travelling-bag,"  she  resumed,  "  while  I  open 
it  and  take  something  out." 

The  interior  of  the  bag  disclosed  a  series  of 
neatly-folded  papers,  all  laid  together  in  order, 
and  numbered  outside.  Mrs.  Lecount  took 
out  one  of  the  papers,  and  shut  up  the  bag 
i;cain  with  a  loud  snap  of  the  spring  that 
closed  it. 

"  At  Aldborough,  Mr.  Noel,  I  had  only  my 
own  opinion  to  support  me,"  she  remarked. 
"My  own  opinion  was  nothing  against  Mis« 
Bygrave's  youth  and  beauty  and  Mr.  By- 
grave's  ready  wit.  I  could  only  hope  to 
attack  your  infatuation  with  proofs,  and  at 
that  time  I  had  not  got  them.  I  have  got 
them  now !  I  am  armed  at  all  points  with 
proofs;  I  bristle  from  head  to  foot  with  proofis; 
I  break  my  forced  silence,  and  speak  with  the 
emphasis  of  my  proofs.  Do  you  know  this 
writing.  Sir  ?" 

He  shrank  back  from  the  paper  which  she 
offered  to  him. 

"  I  don't  understand  this,"  he  said,  nervous- 
ly. "  I  don't  know  what  you  want,  nor  what 
you  mean." 

Mrs.  Lecount  forced  the  paper  into  his 
hand.  "  You  shall  know  what  I  mean,  Sir,  if 
you  will  give  me  a  moment's  attention,"  she 
said.  "  On  the  day  after  you  went  away  to 
St.  Crux  I  obtained  admission  to  Mr.  By- 
grave's  house,  and  I  had  some  talk  in  private 
with  Mr.  Bygrave's  wife.  That  talk  supplied 
me  with  the  means  to  convince  you  which  I 
had  wanted  to  find  for  weeks  and  weeks  past. 
I  wrote  you  a  letter  to  say  so ;  I  wrote  to  tell 
you  that  I  would  forfeit  my  place  in  your  ser- 
vice, and  my  expectations  from  your  generos- 
ity, if  I  did  not  prove  to  you  when  I  came 
back  from  Switzerland  that  my  own  private 
suspicion  of  Miss  Bygrave  was  the  truth.  I 
directed  that  letter  to  you  at  St.  X^rux,  and  I 
posted  it  myself  Now,  Mr.  Noel,  read  the 
paper  which  I  have  forced  into  your  hand.  It 
is  Admiral  Bartram's  wi'itten  affirmation  that 
my  letter  came  to  St.  Crux,  and  that  he  in- 
closed it  to  you,  under  cover  to  Mr.  Bygrave, 
at  your  own  request.  Did  Mr.  Bygrave  ever 
give  you  that  letter  ?  Don't  agitate  yourself. 
Sir!  One  word  of  replv  will  do — Yes?  or 
No?" 

He  read  the  paper,  and  looked  up  at  hex- 
with  growing  bewilderment  and  fear.  She 
obstinately  waited  until  he  spoke.  "  No,"  he 
said,  faintly  ;  "  T  never  got  the  letter." 

"  First  jiroof !"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  taking 
the  paper  from  him  and  putting  it  back  in  the 
bag.    "  Once  more,  with  your  kind  permission, 


NO  NAME. 


S05 


before  we  come  to  things  more  serious  still.  I 
gave  you  a  written  description,  Sir,  at  Aldbor- 
ough,  of  a  pej-son  not  named ;  and  I  asked 
you  to  compare  it  with  Miss  Bygravc  the  next 
time  you  Avere  in  her  company.  After  haying 
first  shoM'n  the  description  to  Mr.  Bygi-ave  — 
it  is  useless  to  deny  it  now,  Mr.  Noel,  your 
friend  at  North  Shingles  is  not  here  to  help 
you!  —  after  having  first  shown  my  note  to 
Mr.  Bygrave,  you  made  the  comparison,  and 
you  found  it  fail  in  the  most  important  partic- 
ular. There  were  two  ^ittIe  moles  placed 
(doso  to<rcther  on  the  left  side  of  the  neck,  in 
my  descriptioii  of  the  unknown  lady,  and 
there  wci-e  no  little  moles  at  all  when  you 
lonke<l  at  Miss  Bygrave's  neck.  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  your  mother,  Mr.  Noel.  If  the 
(juestion  is  not  indelicate,  may  I  ask  what  the 
present  state  of  your  knowledge  is  on  the  sub- 
ject of  your  wife's  neck  V" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  merciless  steadi- 
ness. He  drew  back  a  few  steps,  cowering 
under  her  eye.  "  I  can't  say,"  he  stammered; 
"I  don't  know.  What  do  you  mean  by  these 
questions  ?  I  never  thought  about  the  moles 
aftei'ward  ;  1  never  looked.  She  wears  her 
hair  low — " 

"  She  has  excellent  reason  to  wear  it  low, 
Sir,"  remarked  Airs.  Lecount.  "We  will  try 
and  lift  that  hair  before  we  have  done  with 
the  subject.  When  I  came  out  here  to  find 
you  in  the  garden,  I  saw  a  neat  young  person 
through  the  kitchen  window,  witli  her  work 
in  her  hand,  Avho  looked  to  my  eyes  like  a 
lady's-maid.  Is  this  young  pei'son  your  wife's 
maid?  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir,  did  you  say 
yes  y  In  that  case,  another  question,  if  you 
please.  Did  you  engage  her,  or  did  your 
wife  V" 

"  I  engaged  her — " 

"While  i  was  away?  While  I  was  in  total 
ignorance  that  you  meant  to  have  a  wife,  or  a 
wife's  maid  V" 

"  Yes." 

"  Under  those  circumstances,  Mr.  Noel,  you 
can  not  possibly  suspect  me  of  conspiring  to 
deceive  yon,  with  the  maid  for  my  instrument. 
Go  into  the  house,  Sir,  while  I  wait  here. 
Ask  the  woman  who  dresses  Mrs.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  hair,  morning  and  night,  whether  her 
mistress  has  a  mark  on  tlie  lefl  side  of  her 
neck,  and  (if  so)  what  that  mark  is?" 

He  walked  a  few  steps  toward  the  house 
witliout  uttering  a  word,  then  stopped  and 
looked  V)ack  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  His  blinking 
eyes  were  steady,  and  his  wizen  face  had  be- 
come suddenly  I om]X)sed.  Mrs.  Lecount  ad- 
vanced a  little  atid  joined  him.  She  saw  the 
change ;  but  with  all  her  experience  of  him 
she  failed  to  interpret  the  true  meaning  of 
it. 

"Are  you  in  want  of  a  pretense.  Sir,"  she 
asked.  "Are  you  at  a  loss  to  account  to  you# 
wife's  maid  for  such  a  question  as  I  wish  you 
to  put  to  her.  Pretenses  are  easily  found 
which  will  do  for  persons  in  her  station  of  life. 


Say  I  have  come  here  with  news  of  a  legacy 
for  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone,  and  that  there  is  a 
question  of  her  identity  to  settle  before  she 
can  receive  the  money." 

She  pointed  to  the  hou.se.  He  paid  no  at- 
tention to  the  sign.  His  face  grew  paler  and 
paler.  Without  moving  or  speaking  he  stood 
and  looked  at  her. 

"Are  you  afraid  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Those  words  roused  him ;  those  woi'ds  lit  a 
spark  of  the  fire  of  manhood  in  him  at  last. 
He  turned  on  her  like  a  sheep  on  a  dog. 

"  I  won't  be  questioned  and  ordered  I"  he 
broke  out,  trembling  violently  under  the  new 
sensation  of  his  own  courage.  "  I  won't  be 
threatened  and  mystified  any  longer  I  How 
did  you  find  me  out  at  this  place?  What  do 
you  mean  l)y  coming  here  with  your  hints  and 
your  mysteries?  What  have  you  got  to  say 
against  my  wife  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  composedly  opened  the  trav- 
elling-bag and  took  out  her  smelling-bottle,  in 
ffase  of  emergency. 

"  You  have  spoken  to  me  in  plain  words," 
she  said.  "  In  plain  words.  Sir,  you  shall 
have  your  answer.  Are  yon  too  angry  to 
listen  ?" 

Her  looks  and  tones  alarmed  him,  in  spite 
of  himself  His  courage  began  to  sink  again; 
and,  desperately  as  he  tried  to  steady  it,  his 
voice  trembled  when  he  answered  her. 

"  Give  me  my  answer,"  he  said,  "  and  give 
it  at  once." 

"  Your  commands  shall  be  obeyed,  Sir,  to 
the  letter,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  I  have 
come  here  with  two  objects.  To  open  your 
eyes  to  your  own  situation  ;  and  to  save  your 
fortune  —  perhaps  your  life.  Your  situation 
is  this :  Miss  Bygrave  has  married  you  under 
a  false  character  and  a  false  name.  Can  you 
rouse  your  memory  ?  Caji  you  call  to  mind 
the  disguised  woman  who  threatened  you  in 
Vauxhall  Walk?  That  woman — as  certainly 
as  I  stand  here — is  now  your  wife." 

He  looked  at  her  in  breathless  silence.  Ilis 
lips  falling  apart;  his  eyes  fixed- in  vacant  in- 
quiry. The  suddenness  of  the  disclosure  had 
overreached  its  own  end.  It  had  stupefied 
him. 

"  My  wife  ?"  he  repeated  —  and  burst  into 
an  imbecile  laugh. 

"Your  wife!"  reiterated  Mrs.  Lecount. 

At  the  repetition  of  those  two  words  the 
strain  on  his  faculties  relaxed.  A  thought 
dawned  on  him  for  the  fir.st  time.  His  eyes 
fixed  on  her  with  a  furtive  alarm,  and  he 
drew  back  hastily.  "Mad!"  he  said  to  him- 
self with  a  sudden  remembrance  of  what  his 
friend  Mr.  Bygrave  had  told  him  at  Aldbor- 
ough,  sharpened  by  his  own  sense  of  the  hag- 
gard change  that  he  saw  in  her  face. 

He  spoke  in  a  whisper;  but  Mrs.  Lecount 
heard  liim.  She  was  close  at  his  .side  again  in 
an  instant.  For  the  first  time  her  self-posses- 
sion failed  her,  and  she  caught  him  angrily  by 
the  arm. 


206 


NO  NAME. 


"Will  you  put  my  madness  to  the  proof, 
Sir?"  she  asked. 

He  shook  off  her  hold ;  he  began  to  gather 
courage  again,  in  the  intense  sincerity  of  his 
disbelief— courage  to  face  the  assertion  which 
she  persisted  in  forcing  on  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.     "  What  must  I  do  ?" 

"  Do  what  I  told  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"Ask  the  maid  that  question  about  her  mis- 
tress on  the  spot.  And  if  she  tells  you  the 
mark  is  there,  do  one  tiling  more.  Take  me 
up  into  your  wife's  room,  and  open  her  ward- 
robe in  my  presence  with  your  own  hands." 

"  What  do  you  w«nt  with  her  wardrobe  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  You  shall  know  when  you  open  it." 

•'Very  strange !'  he  said  to  himself,  vacant- 
ly. "  It  's  like  a  scene  in  a  novel  —  it  's  like 
nothing  in  real  life." 

He  went  slowly  into  the  house,  and  Mrs. 
Lecount  waited  lor  him  in  the  garden. 

After  an  absence  of  a  few  minutes  only  he 
appeared  again  on  the  top  of  the  flight  of  steps 
which  led  into  the  garden  from  the  house.  He 
held  by  the  iron  rail  with  one  hand,  while 
with  the  other  he  beckoned  to  Mrs.  Lecount 
to  join  liim  on  the  steps. 

"  What  does  the  maid  say  ?  "  she  asked,  as 
she  approached  him.     "  Is  the  mark  there  ?  " 

He  answered  in  a  whisper,  "  Yes."  What 
he  had  heard  from  the  maid  had  produced  a 
marked  change  in  him.  The  horror  of  the 
coming  discovery  had  laid  its  paralyzing  hold 
on  his  mind.  He  moved  mechanically;  he 
looked  and  spoke  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

"  Will  you  take  my  arm.  Sir  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head ;  and,  preceding  her 
along  tlie  passage  and  up  the  stairs,  led  the 
way  into  his  wife's  room.  When  she  had 
joined  him  and  locked  the  door  he  stood  pas- 
sively waiting  for  his  directions,  without  mak- 
ing any  remark,  without  showing  any  external 
appearance  of  surprise.  He  ha<l  not  removed 
either  his  hat  or  coat.  Mrs.  Lecount  took 
them  off  for  him.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said, 
with  the  docility  of  a  well-trained  child. 
"  It 's  like  a  scene  in  a  novel  —  it 's  like  noth- 
ing in  real  life." 

The  bedchamber  was  not  very  large,  and 
the  furniture  was  heavy  and  old-fashioned. 
But  evidences  of  Magdalen's  natural  taste 
and  refinement  were  visible  everywhere  in 
the  little  embellishments  that  graced  and  en- 
livened the  aspect  of  the  room.  The  perfume 
of  dried  rose  leaves  hung  fragrant  on  the  cool 
air.  Mrs.  Lecount  sniffed  the  perfume  with 
a  disparaging  frown,  and  threw  the  window 
up  to  its  full  height.  ''  Pah  !  "  she  said,  with 
a  shudder  of  virtuous  disgust,  "the  atmos- 
phere of  deceit !" 

She. seated  herself  near  the  window.  The 
wardrobe  stood  against  the  wall  opposite,  and 
the  bed  was  at  the  side  of  the  room  on  her 
right  hand.  "  Open  the  wardrobe,  Mr.  Noel," 
she  said.  "  I  don't  go  near  it,  I  touch  nothing 
in  it  myself.     Take  out  the  dresses  with  your 


own  hand,  and  put  them  on  the  bed.  Take 
them  out,  one  by  one,  until  I  tell  you  to 
stop." 

He  obeyed  her.  "  I  'II  do  it  as  well  as  1 
can,"  he  said.  "  My  hands  are  cold,  and  my 
head  feels  half-asleep." 

The  dresses  to  be  removed  were  not  many, 
for  Magdalen  had  taken  some  of  them  away 
with  her.  After  he  had  put  two  dresses  on 
the  bed  he  was  obliged  to  search  in  the  inner 
recesses  of  the  wardrobe  before  he  could  find 
a  third.  When  he  produced  it,  Mrs.  Lecount 
made  a  sign  to  him  to  stop.  The  end  was 
reached  already  —  he  had  found  the  brown 
Alpaca  dress. 

"  Lay  it  out  on  the  bed.  Sir,"  said -Mrs.  Le- 
count. *'  You  will  see  a  double  flounce  run- 
ning round  the  bottom  of  it.  Lift  up  the 
outer  flounce,  and  pass  the  inner  one  through 
your  fingers,  inch  by  inch.  If  you  come  to  a 
place  where  there  is  a  morsel  of  the  stuff 
missing,  stop,  and  look  up  at  me." 

He  passed  the  flounce  slowly  through  his 
fingers  for  a  moment  or  more,  then  stopped 
and  looked  up.  Mrs.  Lecount  produced  her 
pocket-book  and  opened  it. 

"  Every  word  I  now  speak,  Sir,  is  of  serious 
consequence  to  you  and  to  me,"  she  said. 
"  Listen  with  your  closest  attention.  When 
the  woman  calling  herself  Miss  Garth  came 
to  see  us  in  Vauxliall  Walk,  I  knelt  down  be- 
hind the  chair  on  which  she  was  sitting,  and  I 
cut  a  moT'sel  of  stuff  from  the  dress  she  wore, 
which  might  help  me  to  know  that  dress  if  I 
ever  saw  it  again.  I  did  this  while  the 
woman's  whole  attention  was  absorbed  in  talk- 
ing to  you.  The  morsel  of  stuff  has  been 
kept  in  my  pocket-book  from  that  time  to  this. 
See  for  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,  if  it  fits  the  gap  in 
that  dress  which  your  own  hands  have  just 
taken  from  your  wife's  wardrobe." 

She  rose  and  handed  him  the  fragment  of 
stuff  across  the  bed.  He  put  it  into  the  va- 
cant space  in  the  flounce  as  well  as  his  trem- 
bling fingers  would  let  him. 

"  Does  it  fit.  Sir  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  dress  dropped  from  his  hands,  and  the 
deadly  bluish  pallor  —  which  every  doctor 
who  attended  him  had  warned  his  housekeep- 
er to  dread  —  overspread  his  face  slowly. 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  reckoned  on  such  an 
answer  to  her  question  as  she  now  saw  in  his 
cheeks.  She  hurried  round  to  him,  with  the 
smelling-bottle  in  her  hand.  He  dropped  to 
his  knees,  and  caught  at  her  dress  with  the 
grasp  of  a  drowning  man.  "  Save  me  !  "  he 
gasped,  in  a  hoarse,  breathless  whisper.  "  Oh, 
Lecount,  save  me  ! " 

"I  promise  to  save  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount; 
"  I  am  here  with  the  means  and  the  resolution 
to  save  you.  Come  away  from  this  place  — 
come  nearer  to  the  air."  She  raised  him  as 
she  spoke,  and  led  him  across  the  room  to  the 
window.  "  Do  you  feel  the  chill  pain  again 
on  your  left  side  ?  "  she  asked,  with  the  firet 
signs  of  alarm  that  she  had  shown  yet.   "  Has 


NO  NAME. 


8(»t 


your  wife  got  any  can  de  Cologne,  any  sal-vol- 
atile in  her  room  '^  Don't  exhanst  yourself  by 
ppeaking  —  point  to  the  place." 

He  pointed  to  a  little  triangular  cupboard 
of  old  worm-eaten  walnut  wood,  fixed  high  in 
a  corner  of  tiie  room.  Mrs.  Leeount  tried 
the  door :  it  was  locked. 

As  she  made  that  discovery  she  saw  his 
head  sink  back  gradually  on  tlie  easy-chair  in 
which  she  had  placed  him.  The  warning  of 
the  doctor  in  past  years — "  If  yon  ever  let, 
him  faint,  you  let  him  die" — recurred  to  her 
memory  as  if  it  liad  been  spoken  the  day 
before.  She  looked  at  tlie  eujiboard  again. 
In  a  recess  under  it  lay  some  ends  of  conl, 
placed  there  apparently  for  pnr[)oses  of  pack- 
ing. Without  an  instant's  hesitation  she 
-snatched  up  a  morsel  of  i-ord,  tied  one  end 
fast  round  the  knol)  of  the  cupboard  door,  and, 
seizing  the  otlier  end  in  both  hands,  pulled 
it  su(idenly  with  the  exertion  of  her  whole 
strength.  The  rotten  wood  gave  way,  the 
cupboard-doors  Hew  open,  and  a  heap  of  lit- 
tle trilles  poured  out  noisily  on  the  (lour. 
Without  sto})ping  to  notice  the  broken  china 
and  glass  at  her  I'eet,  she  looked  into  the  dark 
recesses  of  the  cupboard,  and  saw  the  gleam 
of  two  glass  bottles.  One  was  put  away  at 
the  extreme  back  of  the  shelf;  the  other  was 
a  little  in  advance,  almost  hiding  it.  She 
snatched  them  both  out  at  once,  and  took 
them,  one  in  each  hand,  to  the  window,  where 
she  could  read  tlieir  labels  in  the  clearer  light. 

The  bottle  in  her  right  han<l  was  the  first 
bottle  she  looked  at.  It  was  marked  —  Sal- 
voluiile. 

She  instantly  laid  the  other  bottle  aside  on 
the  table  without  looking  at  it.  The  other 
bottle  lay  there  waiting  its  turn.  It  held  a 
dark  liquid,  and  was  labelled — Poisox. 


CHAPTER  II. 

]\Irs.- Leeount  mixed  the  sal -volatile  with 
water,  and  administered  it  inmiediately.  The 
stimulant  had  its  eiiect.  In  a  few  minutes 
Noel  Vanstone  was  able  to  raise  himself  in 
the  chair  without  assistance  :  his  color  changed 
again  for  the  better,  and  his  breath  came  and 
went  more  freely. 

"  IIow  do  you  feel  now.  Sir  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Leeount.  •'  Are  you  warm  again  on  your 
left  side  V" 

He  paid  no  attention  to  that  intpiiry;  his 
eyes,  wandering  aJ)out  the  room,  turned  by 
clianoe  toward  the  table.  To  Mrs.  Lecount's 
surprise,  instead  of  answering  her  he  bent 
forward  in  his  chair,  an<l  looked  with  staring 
eyes  and  pointing  hand  at  the  second  bottle 
which  she  had  taken  from  tlie  cupboard,  and 
which  she  had  hastily  laid  aside,  without  pay- 
ing attention  to  it.  Seeing  that  some  new 
alarm  po.'^sessed  him,  she  advanced  to  the 
table,  and  looked  where  he  looked.     The  la- 


belled side  of  the  bottle  was  full  in  view ;  and 
there,  in  the  plain  handwriting  of  the  chem- 
ist at  Aldborough,  was  the  one  startling  word, 
confronting  them  both,  "  Poison." 

Even  Mrs.  Lecount's  self-possession  was 
shaken  by  that  discovery.  She  was  not  pre- 
pared to  see  her  own  darkest  forebodings  — 
the  acknowledged  offspring  of  her  hatred  for 
Magdalen  —  realized  as  she  saw  them  real- 
ized now.  The  suicide-despair  in  which  the 
)H)ison  had  been  procured,  the  suicide-purpose 
tor  which,  in  distrust  of  the  future,  the  poison 
had  been  kept,  had  brought  with  them  their 
own  retribution.  There  the  bottle  lay,  in 
Magdalen's  absence,  a  false  witness  of  treason 
which  had  never  entered  her  mind  —  treason 
against  her  husband's  life  ! 

With  his  hand  still  mechanically  pointing 
at  the  table,  Noel  Vanstone  raised  his  head 
and  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Leeount. 

"  I  took  it  i'rom  the  cupboard,"  slie  said, 
answei-ing  the.  look.  "  I  took  both  bottles 
out  together,  not  knowing  -\vhich  might  be 
the  bottle  I  wanted.  I  am  as  much  shocked, 
as  nmch  frightened,  as  you  are." 

"  Poison  !'  he  said  to  liimself,  slowly.  "  Poi- 
son locked  up  by  my  wite,  in  the  cupboard  in 
her  own  room."  He  sto[)ped,  and  looked  at 
Mrs.  Leconnt  once  more.  "For  mef"  he 
asked,  in  a  vacant,  inquiring  tone. 

"  We  will  not  talk  of  it.  Sir,  until  your 
mind  is  more  at  ease,"  said  Mrs.  Leeount. 
"  In  the  meantime,  the  danger  that  lies  in 
waiting  in  this  bottle  shall  be  a  danger  de- 
stroyed in  your  presence."  She  took  out  the 
cork  and  threw  the  laudanum  out  of  win- 
dow, and  the  empty  bottle  after  it.  "  Let  us 
try  to  forget'  this  dreadful  discovery  for  the 
present,"  she  resumed ;  "  let  us  go  down  stairs 
at  once.  All  that  1  have  now  to  say  to  you 
can  be  said  in  another  room." 

She  helped  him  to  rise  from  the  chair,  and 
took  his  arm  in  her  own.  "  It  is  well  tor  him, 
it  is  well  for  me,"  she  thought,  as  they  went 
down  stairs  together,  "that  I  came  when  I 
did." 

On  cros.sing  the  passage  she  stepped  to  the 
front  door,  where  the  carriage  was  waiting 
which  had  brought  her  from  Dumfries,  and 
instructed  the  coachman  to  put  up  his  horses 
at  the  nearest  inn,  afid  to  call  again  for  her  in 
two  hours  time.  Tiiis  done,  she  ciccompanieJ 
Noel  Vanstone  into  the  sitting-room,  stirred  up 
the  fire,  and  placed  him  bet'ore  it  comfortably 
in  an  easy-chair.  He  sat  for  a  few  minutes, 
warming  his  hands  feebly  like  an  old  man, 
and  staring  straight  into  the  flame.  Then  he 
spoke. 

"  When  the  woman  came  and  threatened  me 
in  Vauxhall  Walk,"  he  began,  still  staring  into 
the  fire,  "  you  came  back  to  the  ])arlor,  after 
she  was  gone,  and  you  told  me  —  ?"  He 
stopped,  shivered  a  little,  and  lost  the  thread 
of  his  recollections  at  that  point. 

"  I  told  you,  Sir,'^  said  Mrs.  Leeount,  "  that 
the  woman  was,  in  my  opinion,  Miss  Vanstone 


208 


NO  NAME. 


herself.  Don't  start,  Mr.  Noel !  Your  wife  is 
away,  and  I  am  here  to  take  care  of  you !  Say 
to  yourself,  if  you  feel  frightened,  '  Lecount  is 
here ;  Lecount  will  take  cave  of  me.'  The 
truth  must  be  told.  Sir,  however  hard  to  bear 
the  truth  may  be.  Miss  Magdalen  Vanstone 
was  the  woman  who  came  to  you  in  disguise ; 
and  the  woman  who  came  to'you  in  disguise  is 
the  woman  you  have  married.  The  conspiracy 
which  she  threatened  you  with  In  London  is 
the  conspiracy  which  has  made  her  your  wife. 
That  is  the  plain  truth.  You  have  seen  the 
dress  up  stairs.  If  that  dress  had  been  no 
longer  in  existence,  I  should  still  have  had 
my  proofs  to  convince  j^ou.  Thanks  to  my  in- 
terview with  Mrs.  Bygrave,  I  have  discovered 
the  house  your  wife  lodged  at  in  London  —  it 
was  opposite  our  house  in  Vauxhall  AValk.  I 
have  laid  my  hand  on  one  of  the  landlady's 
daughters,  who  watched  your  wife  from  an 
inner  room  and  saw  her  put  on  the  disguise ; 
who  can  speak  to  her  identity,  and  to  the 
identity  of  her  companion,  Mrs.  Bygrave ;  and 
who  has  furnished  me,  at  my  own  request,  with 
a  written  statement  of  facts,  which  she  is  ready 
to  affirm  on  oath  if  any  person  ventures  to 
contradict  her.  You  shall  read  the  statement, 
Mr.  Noel,  if  you  like,  when  you  are  fitter  to 
understand  it.  You  shall  also  read  a  letter  in 
the  handwriting  of  Miss  Garth  —  who  will  re- 
peat to  you  personally,  if  you  like,  what  she 
lias  written  to  me  —  a  letter  formally  denying 
that  she  was  ever  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  and  for- 
mally asserting  that  those  moles  on  your  wife's 
neck  are  marks  peculiar  to  Miss  Magdalen 
Vanstone,  whom  she  has  known  from  child- 
hood. I  say  it  with  a  just  pride — you  will  find 
no  weak  place  any  whei'e  in  the  evidence  which 
I  bring  you.  If  Mr.  Bygrave  had  not  stolen 
my  letter,  you  would  have  had  your  warning 
before  I  was  cruelly  deceived  into  going  to 
Zurich  ;  and  the  proofs  which  I  now  bring  you 
after  your  mai-riage  I  should  then  have  offered 
to  you  before  it.  Don't  hold  me  responsible, 
Sir,  for  what  has  happened  since  I  left  Eng- 
land. Blame  your  uncle's  bastard  daughter, 
and  blame  that  villain  with  the  brown  eye  and 
the  green !"  ' 

She  spoke  her  last  venomous  words  as  slowly 
and  distinctly  as  she  had  spoken  all  the  rest. 
Noel  Vanstone  made  no  aitswer  —  he  still  sat 
cowering  over  the  fire.  She  looked  round  into 
his  face.  He  was  crying  silently.  "  I  was  so 
fond  of  her !"  said  the  miserable  little  creature ; 
"  and  I  thought  she  was  so  fond  of  Me!" 

Mrs.  Lecount  turned  her  back  on  him  in 
disdainful  silence.  "  Fond  of  her  !"  As  she 
repeated  those  words  to  herself  her  haggard 
face  became  almost  handsome  again  in  the 
magnificent  intensity  of  its  contempt. 

She  walked  to  a  bookcase  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  room  and  began  examining  the  volumes 
in  it.  Before  she  had  been  long  engaged  in 
this  way  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  affrightedly  calling  her  back.  The  tears 
were  gone  from  his  face ;  it  was  blank  again 


with'  terror  when  he  now  turned  it  toward -her. 

"Lecount!"  he  said,  holding  to  her  with 
both  hands.  "  Can  an  egg  be  poisoned  ?  I 
had  an  egg  for  breakfast  this  morning,  and  a 
little  toast." 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Le- 
count. "  The  poison  of  your  wife's  deceit  is 
the  only  poison  you  have  taken  j-et.  If  she 
had  resolved  already  on  making  you  pay  the 
price  of  your  folly  with  your  life,  she  would 
not  be  al)sent  from  the  house  while  you  were 
left  living  in  it.  Dismiss  tlie  thought  from 
your  mind.  It  is  the  middle  of  the  day ;  you 
want  refreshment.  I  have  more  to  say  to  you 
in  the  interests  of  your  own  safety  —  I  have 
something  for  you  to  do,  which  must  be  done  at 
once.  Recruit  your  strength  and  you  will  do 
it.  I  will  set  you  the  example  of  eating,  if  you 
still  distrust  the  food  in  this  house.  Are  you 
composed  enough  to  give  the  servant,  her  orders 
if  I  ring  the  bell '?  It  is  necessary  to  the  object 
I  have  in  view  for  you  that  nobod_y  should 
think  you  ill  in  body  or  troubled  in  mind.  Try 
first  with  me  '/efbre  the  servant  comes  in.  Let 
us  see  how  you  look  and  speak  'n'hen  you  say, 
'Bring  up  the  lunch.'  ' 

After  two  rehearsals,  Mrs.  Lecount  consid- 
ered him  fit  to  give  the  order  without  betray- 
ing himself. 

The  bell  was  answered  by  Louisa  —  Louisa 
looked  hard  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  The  luncheon 
was  brought  up  by  the  house-maid — tlie  house- 
maid looked  hard  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  When 
luncheon  was  over  the  table  was  cleared  by 
the  cook  —  the  cook  looked  hard  at  Mrs.  Le- 
count. The  three  servants  were  plainly  sus- 
picious that  something  extraordinary  was  going 
on  in  the  house.  It  was  hardly  possible  to 
doubt  that  they  had  arranged  to  share  amoHg 
themselves  the  three  opportunities  which  the 
service  of  the  table  afforded  them  of  entering 
the  room. 

The  curiosity  of  which  she  was  tlie  object 
did  not  escape  the  penetration  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count. "  I  did  well,"  she  thought,  "  to  arm 
myself  in  good  time  with  the  means  of  reach- 
ing my  end.  If  I  let  the  grass  grow  under  my 
feet,  one  or  other  of  those  women  might  get  in 
my  way.'  Roused  by  this  consideration,  she 
produced  her  travelling-bag  from  a  corner,  as 
soon  as  the  last  of  the  servants  had  left  the 
room,  and  seating  herself  at  the  end  of  the 
table  opposite  Noel  Vanstone,  looked  at  him 
for  a  moment  with  a  steady,  investigating  at- 
tention. She  had  carefully  regulated  the 
quantity  of  wine  which  he  had  taken  at  lun- 
cheon— she  had  let  him  drink  exactly  enough 
to  fortify  without  confusing  him — antl  she  now 
examined  his  face  critically,  like  an  arti.st  ex- 
amining his  picture,  at  the  end  of  the  day's 
work.  The  result  appeai-ed  to  satisfy  her ; 
and  she  opened  the  serious  business  of  the 
interview  on  the  spot. 

"  Will  you  look  at  the  written  evidence  I 
mentioned  to  you,  Mr.  Noel,  before  I  say  any 
more  ?"   she   inquired.      "  Or   are   you  suffi- 


'*i»i 


50  NAME. 


209 


ciently  persuaded  of  the  truth  to  proceed  at  I  that  was  tempting  her  with  tens  of  thousands 
once  to  the  suggestion  wjiich  I  have  now  to  more !  For  the  moment  Mrs.  Lecount  was 
make  to  you  ?"  .    .     ;  fairly  silenced  by  her  own  surprise;  Magdalen 

"Let  me  hear  your  suggestion,"  he  said,  :  had  forced  the  astonishment  from  her  which  is 
iullenly  resting  his  elbows  on  the  table,  and  akin  to  admiration,  the  astonishment  which  her" 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hands.  •  enmity  would  fain  have  refused.     Slie.  hated 

Mrs.  Lecount  took  from  her  travelKng-bag  |  Magdalen  with  a  tenfold  hatred  from  that 
the  written  evidence  <to  which  she  had  just  ;  time. 

alluded,  and  carefully  placed  the  papers  on  ■  "I  have  no  doubt,  Sir,"  she  resumed,  after 
one  side  of  him,  within  easy  reach  if  he  wished  a  momentary  silence,  "that  Mrs.  Noel  gave 
to  refer  to  them.  Far  from  being  daunted,  i  you  e.xceilent  reasons  whv  the  provision  for 
she  was  visibly  encouraged  by  the  ungracious-  j  her  at  your  death  should  he  no  more  and  no 
nes8  of  his  manner.  Her  experience  of  him  [  less  than  eighty  thousand  pounds.  And,  on 
informed  her  that  the  lign  was  a  promising  ,  the  other  band,  I  am  equally  sure  that  vou,  in 
one.     On  those  rare  occasions  wlieii  the  littie    your  innocence  of  all  suspicion,  found  those* 


resolution  that  he  possestsed  was  roused  in  him. 
it  invariably  asserted  itselt"^ — like  the  resolution 
of  most  other  weak  men  —  aggressively.  At 
•uch  times,  in  proportion  as  he  was  outwardly 
sullen  and  discoui'teous  to  those  about  him,  his 


reasons  conclusive  at  the  time.  That  time  has 
now  gone  by.  Your  eyes  are  opened.  Sir; 
And  you  will  not  fail  to  remark  (as  I  remark) 
that  tlie  Combe  -  Raven  property  happens  to 
reach  the  same  sum   exactlv  rs   the   legacy 


resolfition  rose ;  and  in  proportion  as  he  was  I  whi.^'h  your  wile's  own  instructions  directed 

considerate  and  polite  it  fell.     The  tone  of  the  j  you  to  leave  her.     If  you  are  still  in  anv  doubt 

answer  he  had  just  given,  and  the  attitude  he    of  the  motive  for  which  she  married  you.  look 

assumed  at  the  table,  convinced  Mrs.  Lecount  .  in  your  own  will,  an(l  there  the  mo  ive  is !" 

that  Spnnish   wine  and   Scotch  rautton   had  i      lie  raised  liis  head  from  his  hands,  and  be- 

done  their  duty,  and  »had  rallied  ibis  sinking  ;  came  closely  attentive  to  what  she  was  savin'' 

courage.  :  to  iiim  for  the  first  time  since  tliey  had  faced 

"  I  will  put  the  question  to  you  for  form's  |  each  other  at  the  table.     The  Coilibe  -  Raven 

sake,  Sir,  if  you  wish  it."  she  proceeded.  "  Biit  j  propcrt)-  had  jjever  been  classed  by  itself  in 

I  am  already  certain,  without  any  question  at ,  his  estimation.     It  had  com^;  to  him  merged  in 

all,  that  you  have  made  your  will  V"  his  father's  other  possi^ssions  at  his  father's 

He  nodded  iiis  head  without  looking  at  h'er.  ;  death.     The  discovery  which  had  now  op-ned 

"  You  have  made  it  in  your  wite's  favor?"    '  before  him  was  one  to  which  hisordinarv  habits 

He,  nodded  again.  >  of  thought,  as  well  as  his  inno-ence  of  suspi- 

"  You  have  left  hor  everything  you  po»se.is?"    cion,  had  hitherto  closed   his  eyes.     He  said 

•  nothing,  but   he  looked   less  sullenlv  at  Mrs. 


No." 

Mrs.  Lecount  looked  surprised. 

"  Did  you  e.\eri  ise  a  reserve  toward  her, 
Mr.  Noel,  of  your  own  accord  '?"  she  inquired. 
'•or  is  it  po.«sible  that  your  wife  put  her  own 
limits  to  her  interest  in  vour  will  ?'" 


Lecount.  His  manner  was  more  ingratiating; 
the  high  tide  of  his  courage  was  already  on 
the  «*bb. 

"  Y'our  position,  Sir,  must   be  as  plain  by 

this  time  to  you  as  it  is  to  me,"  sai<l   Mrs. 

He  was  uneasily  silent— he.  was  plainly!  Lecount.     "There  is  only  one  obstad*-  now 


Ashamed  to  answer  the  question.  Mrs.  Le^ 
count  repeated  it  in  a  less  direct  form. 

'•  Ilciw  nmch  have  you  left  your  widow,  Mr. 
Nod,  in  the  event  of  your  death?" 

"  Eighty  thousand  pounds." 

That  reply  answered  the  question.     Eight} 


left  between  this. woman  and  the  attainment 
of  her  euvl.  That  nh^'tiicli'.  in  iinur  life.  .Alter 
the  discovery  we  have  m  vde  uj)  stairs,  I  leave 
you  to  consider  for  yourself  what  your  life  is 
worth." 

At  those  terrible  words  the  ebbing  rp«olu- 


thoi.sand  pounds  was'exactiy  the  fbr/une  which  tion  in  him  ran  out  to  the  last  drop.  "  Don't 
Michael  Vanstone  had  taken  I'rom  his  brother's  I  frighten  me!"  he  pleaded;  "I  have  been 
orphan  children  at  his  brotliers  death— exact- !  frightened  enough  already."  He  ros{',  and 
ly  the  fortune  of  which  Michael  Vanstone's!  dragged  his  chair-after  him"  round  the,  table  to 
son  had  kept  possession,  in  his  turn  as  pitiless- ;Mr.s.  Lecount's  side.  He  sat  down,  and 
ly  as  his  father  Before  him.  Noel ^Vai.stone's  ,  caressingly  ki.-^scd  her  hand.  "You  good 
silence  was  elocpient  of  the  confes'sion  which  ;  creature  !"  he  said,  in  a  sinking  voice.  "'Vou 
ho  was  ashamed  to  make.  His  doting  weak-  '  excellent  Lecount !  Tell  me  what  to  do. 
ness  had,  beyond  all  <loubt.  placed  his  whole  '<  I  'm  full  of  resolution  —  I  '11  do  anythin-'  to 
property  at    the  feet   of  his.  wife.      And   this  i  save  my  life  !"  "  ■ 

girl,  whose  vindictive  daring  had  defied  all  re- J  "  H  tve  you  got  writing  materials  in  the 
straints— this  girl,  who  had  not  shrunk  from  her  |  room.  Sir?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Will  you 
di-sperate  determination  even  at  the  church-  !  put  them  on  the  table,  if  you  please?" 
door  —  had,  in  the  very  hour  of  her  triimiph.  i  While  the  writing  materi  Us  wei-e  in  process 
taken  part  only  from  the  man  who  would  wil-  !  of  collection  Mrs.  Lecount  m^de  a  new  de- 
lingly  have  given  all !— had  rigorously  exacted  {  mind  on  the  resources  of  her  travellin;x-h 
ber  fathers  fortune  from  him  to  the  last  far-  kSiie  took  two  papers  from  it,  each  indorseil  \n 
thing,  and  th«n  turned  her  back  on  the  band  j  the  same  neat  commercial  hanjwritin'r 


37 


g-nag. 
d  in 
One 


»0 


^0  NAME. 


was  described  as  •'Draught  for  proposed  Will," 
the  other  as  "  Draught  for  proposed  Letter." 
Wlien  she  placed  them  before  her  on  the 
table  her  hand  shook  a  little ;  and  she  applied 
the  smelling-salts,  which  she  had  brought  with 
her  in  Noel  Vanstone's  interests,  to  her  own 
nostrils. 

"  I  had  hoped,  when  I  came  here,  Mr. 
Noel,"  she  proceeded,  "to  have  given  you 
more  time  ibr  consideration  than  it  seems 
safe  to  give  you  now.  When  you  first  told 
me  of  your  wife's  absence  in  London  I  thought 
it  probable  that  the  object  of  her  journey  was 
to  see  her  sister  and  Miss  Xiarth.  Since  the 
horrible  discovery  we  have  made  up  stairs  I 
am  inclined  to  alter  that  opinion.;  Your  wife's 
determination  not  to  tell  you  who  the  friends 
are  whom  she  has  gone  to  see  fills  me  with 
alarm.  She  may  have  accomplices  in  Lon- 
don —  accomplices,  for  anything  we  know  to 
the  coiitrayy,  in  this  house.  All  three  of  your 
servants,  Sir,  have  tjiken  the  opportunity,  in 
turn,  of  I'oniing  into  the  Toom  and  looking  I 
at  me.  I  don't  like  tlieir, looks!  Neither  you  i 
nor  I  know  what  may  happen  from  day  to 
day,  or  even  from  hour  to  hour.  If  you  take  j 
my  aihlce  you  will  get  the  start  at  once  of 
all  possible  accidents,  and  when  the  carriage 
comes  back  you  will  leave  this  house  with  me." 
"  Yes,  yes  1"  he  said,  eagerly  ;  "  I  '11  leave 
the  house  with  you.  I  wouldn't  stop  here  by 
mvseif  for  any  sum  of  money  that  could  be 
offered  me.  What  do  we  want  the  pen  and 
ink  for  V     Are  you  to  write,  or  am  I  ?" 

"  You  are  to  write,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 
*' The  means  taken  for  promoting  your  own 
safety  are  to  be  means  set  in  motion,  from 
beginning  to  end,  by  yourself  I  suggest,  Mr. 
jJoel — and  you  decide.  Recognize  your  own 
position.  Sir.  What  is  your  first  and  foremost 
necessity  ?  It  is  plainly  this.  .You  must  de- 
stroy your  wife's  interest  in  your  death  by 
making  another  will." 

"He  vehera'.'ntly  nodded  his  approval ;  his 
color  rose,  and  his  blinking  eyes  brightened  in 
malicious  triumph.  "  She  shan't  have  a  far- 
thiu'^,'  he  said  to  himself,  in  a  whisper — "she 
shan't  have  a  farthing !" 

•  "•  When  your  will  is  made,  Sir,"  proceeded 
Mrs.  Lecount,  "you  must  place  it  in  the  hands 
of  a  trustworthy  person —  not  my  hands,  Mr. 
Noel ;  I  am  only  your  servant!  Then,  when 
the  will  is  safe,  and  when  you  are  safe,  write 
to  your  wife  at  this  house.  Tell  Tier  her  in- 
famous imposture  is  discovered  —  tell  her  you 
have  made  a  new  will,  which  leaves  her  pen- 
niless at  your  death  —  tell  her,  in  your  right- 
eous indignation,  that  she  enters  your  doors 
no  more.  Place  yourself  in  that  strong  po- 
sition, and  it  is  no  longer  you  who  are  at  your 
wife's  mercy,  but  your  wife  who  is  at  yours. 
Assert  your  own  power,  Sir,  with  the  law 
to  help  you,  and  crush  this  woman  into  sub- 
mission to  any  terms  for  the  future  that  you 
please  to  impose." 

He  eagerly  took  up  the  pen.     "Yes,"  he 


said,  with  a  vindictive  self-iiiiportancc,  "  any 
terms  I  please  to  impose."  He  suddenly 
checked  himself,  and  his  face  became  de- 
jected and  perplexed.  "  How  can  I  do  it 
now  ?"  he  asked,  throwing  down  the  pen  as 
quickly  as  he  had  taken  it  up. 

"  Do  what.  Sir  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  How  can  I  make  my  will  with  Mr.  Los- 
combe  away  in  London,  and  no  lawyer  here 
to  help  me  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  gently  tapped  the  papers 
before  her  on  the  table  with  her  forefinger. 
'  "  All  the  help  you  need.  Sir,  is  waiting  for 
you  here,"  she  said.  "  I  considered  this  mat-  • 
ter  carefully  before  I  came  to  you,  and  I  pro- 
vided myself  with  the  confidential  assistance 
of  a  friend  to  guide  me  through  those  difficul- 
ties which  I  could  not  penetrate  for  myself. 
The  friend  to  whom  I  refer  is  a  gentleman  of 
Swiss  extraction,  but  born  and  bred  in  Eng- 
land. He  is  not  a  lawyer  by  profession,  but 
he  has  had  his  own  sufficient  experience  of 
the  law,  nevertheless;  and  he  has  supplied 
me,  not  only  with  a  model  by  which  you  may 
make  your  lyill,  but  with  the  written  sketch  of 
a  letter  which  it  is  as  important  for  us  to  have 
as  the  model  of  the  will  itself  There  is 
another  necessity  waiting  for  you,  Mr.  Noel^ 
which  I  have  not  mentioned  yet,  but  which  is 
no  less  urgent  in  its  way  than  the  necessity  of 
the  will." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  with  roused  curi- 
osity. 

"  We  will  take  it  in  its  turn.  Sir,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Its  turn  has  nbt 
come  yet.  The  will,  if  you  please,  first.  I 
will  dictate  from  the  model  in  my  possession, 
and  you  will  write." 

Noel  Vanstone  looked  at  the  draught  for  the 
Will  and  the  draught  for  the  Letter  with  sus- 
picious curiosity. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  see  the  papers  myself . 
before   you    dictate,"   he    said.      "It    would 
be   more   satisfactory  to  my  own  mind,  Le- 
count." 

"  By  all  means,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Le- 
count, handing  him  the  papers  immediately. 

He  read  the  draught  for  the  AVill  first,  paus- 
ing and  knitting  his  brows  distrustfully  wher- 
ever he  found  blank  spaces  left  in  the  manu- 
script to  be  filled  in  with  the  names  of  persons. 
•  and  the  enumeration  of  sums  bequeathed  to 
them.  Two  or  three  .minutes  of  reading 
brought  him  to  the  end  of  the  paper.  He 
gave  it  bact  to  Mrs.  Lecount  without  making 
any  objection  to  it. 

The  draught  for  the  Letter  was  a  much 
longer  document.*  He  obstinately  read  it 
through  to  the  end,  with  an  expression  of  per- 
plexity and  discontent  which  showed  that  it 
was  utterly  unintelligible  to  him.  "  I  must 
have  this  explained,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of 
his  old  self-importance,  "  before  I  take  any 
steps  in  the  matter." 

(  "  It  shall  be  explained.  Sir,  as  we  go  on." 
said  Mrs.  Lecount. 


NO  NAME. 


211 


''  Every  word  of  it  V" 

"  Every  word  of  It,  JNlr.  ^^Of  I,  when  its  turn 
<ome9.  You  have  no  objection  to  the  will  V 
To  the  will,  tHen,  as  1  said  before,  let  us 
devote  ourselves  first.  You  have  seen  for 
y6urself  that  it  is  short  enough  and  simple 
enough  for  a  child  to  understand  it.  But  if 
any  doubts  remain  ou  your  mind,  by  all  means 
compose  those  doubts  by  showing  your  will  to 
a  lawyer  by  profession.  In  the  meantime,  le' 
me  not  be  considered  intrusive  if  I  remind 
you  that  we  are  all  mqjftal,  and  that  the 
lost  opportunity  can  jiever  be  recalled.  While 
your  time  is  vour  own,  Sir,  and  while  your 
enemies  are  unsuspicious  of  you,  make  vour 
will !" 

She  opened  a  sheet  of  note-{Vif>er  and 
smoothed  it  out  before  him;  she  dipped  the 
pen  in  ink  and  placed  it  in  his  hands.  He 
took  it  from  her  without  speaking ;  he  was, 
to  all  appearance,  suffering 'under  some  tem 
porary  uneasiness  of  mind.  But  the  main 
point  was  gained.  There  he  sat,  with  the  pa- 
per before  him  and  the  pen  in  his  hand,  ready 
at  last,  in  right  earnest,  to  make  his  will. 

"The  first  question  for  you  to  decide,  Sir," 
said  Mrs.  Lecount,  after  a  preliminary  glance 
at  hir  Draught,  "  is  your  choice  of  an  executor. 
I  have  no  desire  to  influence  your  decision  ; 
but  I  may,  without  impropriety,  remind  you 
that  a  wise  choice  means,  m  other  words,  the 
choice  of  an  old  and  tried  friend  whom  you 
know  that  you  can  trust." 

"  It  means  the  admiral,  I  suppose,"  said 
Noel  Vanstone. 

Mrs.  Lecount  bowed. 

"Very  well,"  he  continued;  "  the  admiral 
let  it  be." 

There  was  plainly  some  oppression  still 
weighing  on  his  mind.  Even  under  the  try-- 
ing  circumstances  in  which  he  was  now  placed 
it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  take  Mrs.  Lecount's 
perfectly  sensible  and  disinterested  advice 
without  a  word  of  cavil,  as  he  had  taken  it 
now. 

"  Are  you  ready,  Sir  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Lecount  dictated  the  first  paragraph 
from  the  Draught,  as  follows : 

i-This  is  the  last  Will  and  Testament  of 
me,  Noel  Vanstone,  now  living  at  Baliol  Cot- 
tage, near  Dumfries.  I  revoke,  absolutely 
and  in  every  particular,  my  former  will,  exe- 
cuted on  the  thirtieth  of  September,  eighteen 
hundred  and  forty-seven  ;  and  I  hereby  ap- 
point Rear- Admiral  Arthur  Everard  Bar- 
tram,  of  St.  Crux-in-the  Marsh,  Essex,  sole 
executor  of  this  my  will." 

•'  Have  you  written  those  words,  Sir  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Lecount  laid  down  the  Draught;  Noel 
Vanstone  laid  down  tlie  pen.  They  neither 
•I'  them  looked  at  each  other.  There  was  a 
lon<i  silence. 


"  I  am  waiting,  Mr.  Noel,"  sair^gics.  Le* 
count,  at  last,  "  to  hear  what  your  iBies  are 
'n  respect  to  the  disposal  of  yoi*  fortune. 
Your  large  fortune,"  she  added,  with  merci- 
less emphasis. 

He  took  up  the  pen  again,  and  began  pick- 
ing the  feathei"s  from  the  i]uill  in  dead  silence. 

"  Perhaps  your  existing  will  may  help  you 
to  instruct  me.  Sir,"  pursued  Jlrs.  Lecount. 
•'  May  I  inquire  to  whom  you  left  all  your 
■surplus  money  after  leaving  the  eighty  thou- 
sand pounds  to  your  wife  V" 

If  he  had  answered  tliat,  question  plainly 
he  must  have  said,  "  I  have  h-fl  the  whole 
surplus  to  my  cousin,  George"  B:irtram,"  and 
the  implied  acknowledgment  that  Mrs.  Li>- 
couut's  name  was  not  mentioned  in  the  will 
must  then  have  followed  in  Mrs.  LccoinU's 
presence.  A  much  bolder  man,  in  his  situa- 
tion, might  have  felt  the  same  oppression  and 
the  same  embarrassment  which  he  was  feeling 
now.  He  picked  the  last  morsel  of  feather 
from  the  quill,  and.  desperately  leaping  the 
pitfall  under  his  fe«t,  advanced  to  meet  Mrs. 
Lecount's  claims  on  him  of  his  own  accord. 

"I  would  rather  not  talk  of  any  will  but 
the  will  I  am  making  now,"  he  sai  1,  uneasily. 
''  The  first  thing,  Lecount — '  He  hesitated — 
put  the  bare  end  of  the  quill  into  lii^  mouth — 
gnawed  at  it  thoughtfully — and  said  no  more. 

*'  Yes,  Sir  ?"  persisted  Mrs.  Lecount 

"  The  first  thmg  is — " 

"  les.  Sir  .•' 

"  The  first  thing  is,  to — to  make  some  pro- 
vision for  You  V" 

He  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  tone  of  plnin- 
tive  interrogation  —  as  if  all  hope  of  being 
met  by  a  magnanimous  refusal  iiad  not  de- 
serted him  even  yet.  Mr^.  Li-count  enlight- 
ened his  mind  on  this  point  without  a  moment's 
loss  of  time. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.-  Noel,"  she  said,  with  the 
tone  and  manner  of  a  woman  who  was  not 
acknowledging  a  favor  blit  receiving  a  right. 

He  tO(  k  aiiotlier  bite  at  the  (piill.  .  The 
perspiration  began  to  appear  on  his  face. 

"  The  flifBcuhy  is,"  he  remarked,  "to  say^ 
how  much." 

"  Yonr  lamented  father,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.- 
Lecount.  "  met  that  difflculty  (if  voo  remem- 
ber) at  the  tim«  of  his  last  illness?" 

"  I  don't  remember,"  said  Noel  Vanstone, 
doggedly. 

"  You  were  on  one  side  of  his  bed.  Sir,  and 
I  was  on  the  othur.  We  were  vainly  trying 
to  persuade  him  to  make  his  will.  After  tell- 
in"  us  he  would  wait  and  make  his  will  when 
he  was  well  again,  he  looked  round  at  me  and 
said  some  kind  and  feeling  words  whiil>  my 
memory  will  treasure  to  my  dyini  <lay.  Have 
you  forgotten  those  words,  Air.  Noel;"' 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Noel,  witliout  hesitation. 

"  In  my  prodent  situation.  Sir,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Lecount,  "  <lclicacy  forbids  me  to  im- 
prove your  memory. " 

She  looked  at  at  her  watch  and  relapsed 


212 


NO  NAMB. 


into  sil^,.  ^e.  He  clenched  bis  hands,  and 
writhAij^'om  side  to  side  of  lii.s  chair  in  an 
a;rony  of^ndetision.  Mrs.  Lecount  passively 
refused  to  take  the  slightest  notice  of  liini. 

'•  What  should  3  ou  say —  ?"  he  began,  and 
suddfiily  stopped  again. 

"Yes, -Sir?" 

"What  sliould  you  say  to  —  a  thousand 
pounds  V" 

Mrs.  Leeount  rose  from  her  chair  and  looked 
him  full  in  the  face  with  the  majestic  indig- 
nation of  an  outraged  woman. 

"  After  the  service  I  have  rendered  you 
to-day,  Mr.  Nod,*"  she  said,  "  I  have  at  least 
earned  a  claim  on  your  respect  —  if  I  have 
earned  nothing  more.  I  wish  you  good-morn- 
ing." 

^"Two  thousand!"  cried   Noel   Vanstone, 
with  the  courage  of  ilespair. 

Mrs.  Lecount  folded  up  her  papers,  and 
hut\g  her  travelling-bag  over  her  arm  in  con- 
temptuous silence. 

"  Tliree  thousand  !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  moved  wj^h  impenetrable  dig- 
nity from  the  table  to  the  door. 

"  Four  thousand !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  gathered  her  shawl  round  her 
with  a  shudder,  and  opened  the  door. 

"  Five'thousand !"  • 

He  elapsed  his  hands,  and  wrung  them  at 
her  in  a  frenzy  of  rage  and  suspense.  "  Five 
thousand  !"  was  the  death-cry  of  his  pecuniary 
suicide. 

Mrs.  Lecount  softly  shut  the  door  agaio  and 
came  back  a-  step. 

"  Free  of  legacy  duty,  Sir?"  she  inquired. 

"  No !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  turned  o"p  her  heel  and  open- 
ed the  door  again. 

"Yes!' 

Mrs.  Lecount  came  back,  and  resumed  her 
place  at  the  table  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  Five  thousand  pounds,  free  of  legacy  duty. 
was  the  sum.  Sir,  which  your  father's  grateful 
regard  promised  me  in  his  will,"  she  said,  qui- 
etly. "  If  you  choose  to  exert  your  memory, 
as  you  have  not  chosen  to  exert  it  yet,  your 
memory  will  tell  you  that  I  speak  the  truth. 
I  accept  your  filial  performance  of  your  fa- 
ther's promise,  Mr.  Noel  —  and  there  J  stop. 
I  scorn  to  take  a  mean  advantage  of  my  posi- 
tion toward  you :  I  scorn  to  grasp  anything 
from  your  fears.  Y'ou  are  protected  by  my 
■  respect  for  myself  and  for  the  Illustrious  Name 
I  bear.  You  are  welcome  to  all  that  I  have 
done,  and  to  all  that  I  liave  suffered  in  your 
service.  The  widow  of  Professor  Lecompte, 
Sir,  takes  what-  is  justly  hers  —  and  takes  no 
more  1"  '     . 

As  she  spoke  these  words  the  traces  of  sick- 
ness seemed  for  the  moment  to  disappear  from 
her  face;  her  eyes  shone  with  a  steady  inner 
light;  all  the  woman  warmed  and  brightened 
in  tlie  radiance  of  her-  own  triumph  —  the  tri- 
umph, trebly  won,  of  carrying  her  point,  of 
vindicating  her  integrity,   and  of  matching 


Magdalen's  incorruptible  selfklenial  on  Mag- 
dalen's own  ground. 

"When  you  are  yourself  again.  Sir,  we  will 
proceed.     Let  us  wait  a  little  first." 

She  gave  iiim  time  to  compose  himself;  and 
then,  after  first  looking  at  her  Draught,  dic- 
tated the  second  paragraph  of  the  will  in 
these  terms: 

"  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Madame  Virginie 
Lecompte  (widow  of  Professor  Lecompte,  late 
of  Zurich)  the  nunvof  Five  Thousand  Pounds, 
free  of  Legacy  Duty.  And,  in  making  this 
bequest.  I  wish  to  place  it  on  record  that  I  am 
not  only  expressing  my  own  sense  of  Madame 
Lecom})te's  attachment  and  fidelity  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  my  housekeeper,  but  that  I  also  be- 
lieve myself  to  be  executing  the  intentions  of 
my  deceased  father,  who,  but  for  the  circum- 
!«tance  of  his  dyiing  intestate,  would  have  left 
•Madame  Lecompte,  in  his  will,  the  same  token 
of  grateful  regard  for  her  services  which  I  now 
leave  her  in  mine." 

"  Have  you  written  the  last  wortis,  Sir  f" 

"'Yes." 

Mrs  Lecount  leaned  'across  the  table  and 
offered  NopI  Vanstone  her  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said.  "  The 
five  thousand  pounds  is  the  acknowledgment 
on  your  father's  side  of  what  I  have  done  ibr 
him.  The  words  in  the  will  are  the  acknowl- 
edgment on  yours." 

A  faint  smile  flickered  over  his  face  for  the 
first  time.  It  comforted  him,  on  reflection,  to 
think  that  matters  might  have  been  worse. 
There  was  balm  for  his  wounded  spirit  in  pay- 
ing the  debt  of  gratitude  by  »  sentence  not 
negotiable  at  his  banker's.  Whatever  his 
father  migh^  have  done,  he  had  got  Lecount  a 
bargain  after  all  I 

"  A  little  more  writing.  Sir,"  resumed  Mrs. 
Lecount,  "and  your  painful  but  necessary 
duty  will  be  performed.  The  trifling  matter 
of  my  legacy  being  settled,  we  may  come  to 
the  important  question  that  is  left.  The  future 
direction  of  a  large  fortune  is  now  waiting  your 
word  of  command.     To  whoiji  is  it  to  go  V  ' 

He  began  to  writhe  rtgain  in  his  chair.  Evec 
under  the  all-powerful  fascination  of  his  wife 
the  parting  with  his  money  on  paper  had  not 
been  accomplished  without  a  pang.  He  had 
endured  the  pang :  he  had  resigned  himself  to 
the  sacrifice.  And  now  here  was  the  dreaded 
ordeal  again  awaiting  him  mercilessly  for  the 
second  time  I 

'i  Perhaps  it  may  assist  your  decision,  Sir,  if 
I  repeat  a  (luestion  which  I  haw  put  to  you 
already,"  observed  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  In  the 
will  that  you  made  under  your  wife's  influ- 
ence, to  whom  did  you  leave  the  surplus  mon- 
ey which  remained  at  your  disposal  ?" 

There  was  no  harm  in  answering  the  ques- 
tion now.  He  -acknowledged  that  he  had  left 
the  money  to  his  cousin  George. 

"  You  could  have  done  nothing  better,  Mr. 


NO  NAME. 


Sit 


Noel,  and  you  can  do  nothing  better  now," 
said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "Mr.  George  and  his  two 
sisters  are  your  only  relations  left.  One  of 
those  si^ters'isi  an  im"urable  invalid,  with  more 
than  money  enough  already  for  all  the  wants 
whii-h  her  affliction  allows  her  to  feel.  The 
other  is  the  wife  of  a  man  even  richer  than 
yourself.  To  leave  the  money  to  these  sis- 
ters is  to  waste  it.  To  leave  the  money  to 
their  brother  George  istogiv»your  cousin  e.x- 
aotly  the  assistance  wWch  he  will  want  when 
he  one  day  inherits  Lis  uncle's  dilapidated 
hou,-<e  and  his  uncle's  impoverished  estate.  A 
will  which  names  the  admiral  your  executor, 
and  Mr.  George  your  heir,  is  the  right  will 
for  you  to  make.  It  does  honor  to  the  claims 
of  friendsbip,  and  it  does  justice  to  the  claims 
of  blood." 

She  spoke  warmly,  for  .«he  spoke  with  a 
grateful  remembrance  of  all  that  she  herself 
owed  to  the  hospitality  of  St.  Crux.  Noel 
Vanstonc  took  up  another  pen,  and  began  to 
strip  tlie  second  quill  of  its  feathers  as  he  had 
stripped  the  first. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  reluctantly;  "  I  supfiose 
George  must  have  it — I  suppose  George  has 
the  principal  claim  on  me.'"  lie  hesitated : 
he  looked  at  the  door,  he  looked  at  the  win- 
dow, as  it  he  longed  to  make  his  escape  by 
one  way  or  the  other.  '•  Oh.  J  recount,"  he 
cried,  piteously,  ''  it  's  such  a  large  fortune ! 
Let  me  wait  »  little  before  I  leave  it  to  any- 
body !" 

To  his  surprise,  Mrs.  Lecount  at  once  com- 
plied with  this  characteristic  request. 

"  I  wish  you  to  wait,  Sir,'  she  replied.  "  I 
have  somethinfj  important  to  say  before  you 
add  another  line  to  your  will  A  little  wjiile 
since  I  told  you  there  wa«  a  second  necessity 
connected  with  your  present  situs^tion,  whicli 
had  not  been  provided  for  yet,  but  which 
must  be  provided  for  when  the  time  came. 
The  time  has  come  now.  You  have  a  serious 
difUculty  to  meet  and  conquer  before  you  can 
leave  your  fortune  to  your  cousin  George." 

"  What  difficulty  ?"  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Lecount.  rose  from  her  chair  withoHt 
answering,  stole  to  the  door,  and  suddenly 
threw  it  open.  No  one  was  listening  outside; 
the  passage  was  a  solitude  from  one  end  to  the 
other. 

•'  I  distrust  all  servants,"  she  said,  rctnrning 
to  her  place  —  ''  your  servants  particularly. 
Sit  closer,  Mr.  Noel.  What  1  have  now  to 
say  to  you  must  be  heard  by  no  living^creat- 
ure  but  ourselves." 


CHAPTER  in. 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes,  while 
Mrs.  Lecount  opened  the  ?c<on<l  of  the  two 
papers  which  lav  before  her  on  the  table,  and 
refreshed  her  memory  by  locking  it  rapidlv 
through.  This  done,  she  oiue  more  addressed 
herself  to  Notd  Vanstone,  carefully  lowering 


her  voice,  m  ai  to  render  ii  inaudible  to  any 
one  who  might  be  listening  in  the  passage  out- 
side. 

"  I  must  beg  your  permission.  Sir,"  she  be- 
gan, "to  return  to  the  subject  of  your  wife.  I 
do  so  most  unwillingly,  and  I  promise  you  that 
what  I  have  now  to  say  about  her  shall  be 
said,  for  your  sake  and  tor  mine,  in  the  fewest 
words.  What  do  we  know  of  this  woman, 
Mr.  Noel — judging  her  by  her  own  confession 
when  she  came  to  us  in  tfcs  character  of  Miss 
Garth,  and  by  her  own  acts  afterward  at  Aid- 
borough  ?  We  know  that,  if  death  had  not 
sivatched  your  father  out  of  her  reach,  she  was 
ready  with  her  plot  to  rob  him  of  the  Combe- 
Ryiven  money.  We  know  that  when  you  in- 
herited the  money  in  your  juni,  ghe  was  ready 
with  her  plot  to  rob  you.  Wo  know  how  she 
carried  that  plot  through  to  the  end ;  and  we 
know  that  nothing  but  your  death  is  wanted 
at  this  moment  to  crown  her  rapacity  and  her 
deception  with  success.  We  are  sure  of  these 
things.  We  are^iure  that  she  is  young,  bold, 
and  clever — that  she  has  neither  doubts,  scru- 
ples, nor  pity — and  that  She  possessi's  the  per- 
sonal qualities  which  men  in  general  (quite 
incompreh(!n.sibly  to  me!)  are  weak  enough  to 
admire.  These  are  not  fancies,  Mr.  Noel,  but 
facts — you  know  them  as  well  as  1  do." 

He  made  a  sign  in  the  affirmative,  and  Mrs. 
Lecount  went  on : 

'*  Keep  in  your  mind  what  I  have  said  of 
the  past.  Sir,  and  now  look  with  me  to  the, 
future.  I  hop«  and  trust  you  have  a  long  life 
still  before  you;  but  let  us.  for  the  moment 
only,  suppose  the  case  of  your  de.'ith  —  a  our 
death,  leaving  this  will  behind  \ou,  whicli  aive* 
your  fortune  to  your  cousin  George.  I  am 
told  there  is  an  office  in  London  in  which 
copies  of  all  wills  must  be  kept.  Any  curiouf 
atranger  who  chooses  to  pay  a  shilling  for  the 
privilege  may  enter  that  office,  and  may  read 
■Any  will  in  the  place  at  his  or  her  di-cretion. 
Uo  you  see  what  I  am  coming  to,  Mr.  N^l  ? 
Your  disinherited  widow  pays  her  shilling, 
and  reads  your  will.  Your  difiinherited  wid- 
ow sees  that  the  Combe-Raven  money,  winch 
has  gone  irom  your  father  to  you,  goei  next 
from  you  to  5Ir.  George  Bartrara.  What  is* 
ti^e  certain  end  of  that  discovery  V  The  end 
in  that  you  leave  to  your  cou.sin  and  your 
friend  the  legacy  of  this  woman's  vengeance 
and  this  woman's  deceit  —  vengeance  made 
more  resolute,  deceit  made  more  devilisii  than 
ever  by  lier  exa.^peration  it  her  own  failure. 
What  is  your  cousin  (ieorge  ?  He  is  a  gen- 
erous, unsuspicious  man  ;  incapable  of  deceit 
himself,  and  fearing  no  deception  in  otheri. 
Leave  him  at  the  mercy  of  your  wife's  unscru- 
pulous fa.viTiationH  and  your  wife's  unfathom- 
able deceit,  and  I  see  the  end  as  certainly  an 
I  see  you  sitting  there!  She  will  blind  hi« 
eyes  as  she  blinded  yours;  and,  is  spite  of 
)/oH,  and  in  spite  of  me,  she  will  have  the 
money !" 
*  "  She  stopped,  and  left  her  last  words  time 


314 


NO  NAAIE. 


to  gain  their  hold  on  his  mind.  The  cireura- 
s<tances  had  been  stated  so  clearly,  the  conclu- 
sion from  them  had  been  so  plainly  drawn, 
that  he  seized  her  meaning  without  an  effort, 
;md  sejzed  it  at  once. 

"  I  see !"  he  said,  vindictively  clenching  his 
hands.  "  I  understand,  Lecouiit  I  She  shan't 
fiave  a  farthing.  Only  tell  me  what  to  do  — 
shall  I  leaTe  it  to  the  admiral  ?"  He  paused, 
i«nd  considered  a  little.  '♦No,"  he  resumed; 
'•  there's  the  same  .danger  in  leaving  it  to  the 
admiral  that  there  is  in  leaving  it  to  George.'-' 

"  There  is  no  danger,  Mr.  Noel,  if  you  will 
lake  my  advice."' 

•'  What  is  your  advice  ?" 

"  Follow  your  own  idea.  Sir.  Take  the  pen 
in  hand  again,  and  leave  the  money  to  Admi- 
ral Bartram." 

He  mechanically  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink, 
;ind  then  hesitated.  * 

"  You  shall  know  where  I  am  leading  you, 
Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  "before you  sign  your* 
vill.  In  the  meantime,  let  us  gain  every  inch 
of  ground  we  can  as  we  go  on.  I  want  the 
will  to  be  all  writterfout  before  we  advance  a 
•ingle  Jtep  beyond  it.  Begin  your  third  par- 
agraph, Mr.  Noel,  under  the  lines  which  leave 
me  my  legacy  of  five  thousand  pounds." 

She  dictated  the  last  momentous  sentence 
of  the  will  (from  the  rough  draught  in  her 
[)ossession)  in  these  words: 

"  The  whole  residue  of  my  estate,  after  jjay- 
ment  of  my  burial  expenses  and  my  lawful 
debts,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Rear-Admiral 
Arthur  Everard  Bartram,  my  executor  afore- 
said :  to  be  by  him  applied  to  such  uses  as  he 
may  think  fit. 

''  Signed,  sealed,  and  delivered  this  third 
day  of  November,  eighteen  hundred  and  for- 
ty-seven, by  Noel  Vanstone,  the  within-named 
testator,  as  and  for  his  last  Will  and  Testa- 
ment, in  the  presence  of  us — " 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone,  in  as- 
tonishment'. 

"  That  is  enough,  Sir,  to  bequeath  your  for- 
tune to  the  admiral ;  and  therefore  that  is  all. 
Now  let  us  go  back  to  the  case  which  we  have 
supposed  already.  Your  widow  pays  her  shil- 
ling, and  sees  this  will.  There  is  the  Combe- 
Raven  money  left  to  Admiral  Bartram,  with  a 
declaration 'in  plain  words  that  it  is  his,  to  use 
as  he  likes.  Avhen  she  sees  this,  what  does 
she  do  'i  She  sets  her  trap  for  the  admiral. 
He  is  a  bachelor,  and  he  is  an  old  man.  Who 
is  to  protect  him  against  the  arts  of  this  des- 
perate woman  V  Protect  him  yourself,  Sir, 
with  a  few  more  strokes  of  that  pen  which  has 
done  such  wonders  already.  You  have  left 
him  this  legacy  in  youv  will — which  your  wife 
sees.  Take  the  legacy  away  again  in  a  letter 
— which  is  a  dead  secret  between  the  admiral 
and  you.  Put  the  will  and  the  letter  under 
one  cover,  and  place  them  in  the  admiral's 
possession,  with  your  written  directions  to  bim 


to  br^ak  the  seal  on  the  day  of  your  death. 
Let  the  will  say  what  it  says  now ;  and  let  the 
letter  (which  is  your  secret  and  Iris)  tell  him 
the  truth.  Say  that  in  leaving  him  your  for- 
tune, you  leave  it  with  the  request  that  he 
will  take  his  legacy  with  one  hand  from  you, 
and  give  it  with  the  other  to  his  nephew 
Greorge.  Tell  him  that  your  trust  in  this 
matter  rests  solely  on  your  confidence  in  his 
honor,  and  on  your  belief  in  his  affectionate 
remembrance  of  your*  father  and  yourself 
You  have  known  the  admiral  since  you  were  • 
a  boy.  He  has  his  little  whims  and  oddities — 
but  he  is  a  gentleman  from  the  crown  of  his 
head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot;  and  he  is  utterly 
incapable  of  proving  false  to  a  trust  in  his 
honor,  reposed  by  his  dead  friend.  Meet  the 
difficulty  boldly  by  such  a  stratagem  as  this, 
and  you  save  these  two  helpless  men  from  ' 
your  wife's  snares,  one  by  means  of  the  other.. 
Here,  on  one  side,  is  your  will,  which  gives 
the, fortune  to  the  admiral,  and  sets  her  plot- 
ting accordinjrly.  And  there,  on  the  other 
side,  is  your  letter,  which  privately  puts  the 
money  into  the  nephew's  hand^!" 

The  malicious  dejgXterity  of  this  combination, 
was  exactly  the  dexterity  which  Noel  Van- 
stone was  most  fit  to  appreciate.  He  tried  to 
express  his  approval  and  admiration  in  words.  , 
Mrs.  Lecount  held  up  her  hand  warningly, 
and  closed  his  lips. 

"  Wait,  Sir,  before  you  express  your  opin- 
ion," she  went  on.     "  Half  the  difficulty  is  all 
that  we  have  conquered  yet.     Let  us  say  the 
admiral  has  made  the  use  of  your  legacy  which 
you  have  privately  requested  him  to  make  of  " 
it.     Sooner  or  later,  however  well  the  secret    ' 
may  be   kept,  your  wife   will   discover  the  * 
truth.     What  follows  that  discovery?      She   , 
lays  siege  to  Mr.  George.     All  you  have  done 
is  to  leave  him  the  money  by  a  roundabout 
way.     There  he  is,  after  an  interval  of  time, 
as  much  at  her  merc.v  as  if  you  had  openly 
mentioned  him  in  your  will.      What  is  the 
remedy  for  this  ?     "The  remedy  is  to  mislead 
her,  if  we  can,  for  the  second  time — to  set  up 
an  obstacle  between  her  and  the  money,  for 
tke  protection  of  your  cousin  George.     Can 
you  guess  for  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,  what  is  the 
most  promising  obstacle  we  can  put  in  her  , 
way  ?"  •         • 

He  shock  his  head.  Mrs.  Lecount  smiled, 
and  startled  him  into  close  attention  by  laying 
her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Put  a  Woman  in  her  way,  Sir !"  she 
whispered,  in  her  wiliest  tones.  "  We  don't 
believe  in  that  fascinating  beauty  of  hers,  ^^ 
whatever  you  may  do.  Our  lips  don't  burn  to  . 
kiss  those  smooth  cheeks — our  arms  don't  long 
to  l)e  round  that  supple  waist.  We  see  through 
her  smiles  and  hqr  graces,  and  her  stays  and 
her  padding  —  she  can't  fascinate  us  I  Put  a 
woman  in  her  way,  Mr.  Noel !  Not  a  womaa 
in  my  helpless  situation,  who  is  only  a  servant, 
but  a  woman  with  the  authority  and  the  jeal- 
ousy of  a  Wife.    Make  it  a  condition,  in  your 


.^O  NAME. 


215 


letter  to  tlie  admiral,  that  if*  Mr.  George  is  a  \  letter-paper  was  found  in  it  of  the  size  re- 
bachelor  at  the  time  of  your  death  he  shall  I  quired.     Kirs.  Lecouut  resumed  her  dictation, 
marry  within  a  certain, time  afterward,  or, he  |  and  Noel  Vanstone  resumed  his  pen. 
shall  not  have  the  legacy.    Suppose  he  remains  i 

sinffle,  in   spite  of  your  condition,  "who  is   to  s     "  Bauol  Cottaoe,  DcMrniKa.  Aw.  3»  1847. 

have  the  money  then?     Put  a  woman  in  your  ^    [pbivate  ] 

wife's  way.  Sir,  once  more,  and  leave  the  for-  ' 

tune,  in  that  case,  to  the  married  sister  of  your       "  Dear  Admiral  Bartram— When  you 
cousin  George."  j.^^P^^  '"X  ^^ill  (m  which  you  are  named  my 

She  paused.    Noel  Vanstone  again  attempt- ;  sole  e.xecutor)  you  will  find  that  I  haver- 
ed to   e.xpress  his  opinion,  and   again  Mrs.  i  queathed  the  whole  residue  ot  my  estate 


LecounVs  hand  extinguished  him  in  silence 

"  If  you  approve,  Mn  Noel,"  alio  said,  "  I 
will  take  your  approval  for  granted.  If  you 
object,  I  will  meet  your  objection  before  it  is 
out  of  your  mouth.  You  may  say :  Suppose 
this  condition  is  sufficient  to  answer  the  pur- 


aller  payment  of  one  legacy  of  five  thousand 

f)ounds — to  yourself  It  is  the  purpose  of  my 
etter  to  tell  you  privately  what  the  object  is 
for  which  I  have  left  you  the  fortune  t^hich  is 
now  placed  in  your  hands. 

"  I  beg  you  to  consider  this  large  legacy  as 


pose,  why  hide  it  in  a  private  letter  to  the  1  intended,  under  certain  conditions,  to  be  given 
admiral  ?  Why  not  openly  .wri)je  it  down,  i  by  you  to  your  nephew  George.  If  your 
with  my  cousin's  name  attached  to  it,  in  the  I  nephew  Is  married  at  the  time  of  my  death. 


XX\y  ^. „ 

will?  Only  for  one  reai^on,  Sir.  Only  be-  i  and  if  his' wife  is  Hving,  I  request  you  to  put 
cause  the  secret  way  is  the  sure  wav  with  such  |  l"ni  at  once  in  possession  of  >;our  legacy ;  ac- 
companying it  by  the  e.xpression  of  my  desire 
(which  I  am  sure  he  will  consider  a  sacred  and 
binding  obligation  on  him)  that  he  will  settle 
the  money  on  his  wife  and  on  his  children,  il 
he  has  any.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  un- 
married at  the  time  of  my  death,  or  if  he  is  a 
widower — in  either  of  those  cases,  I  make  it  a 
condition  of -his  receiving  the  legacy  that  he 
shall  be  married  within  the  period  of — " 


a  woman  as  your  wife.  The  more  secret  you 
can  keep  your  intentions  the  more  time  you 
force  her  to  Avaste  in  finding  them  out  for 
herself  That  time  which  she  loses  is  time 
gained  from  her  treachery  by  the  admiral  — 
time  gained  b}-  Mr.  George  (if  he  is  still  a 
bachelor)  for  his  undisturbed  choice  of  a  lady 
—  time  gained,  for  her  own  sccurit}-,  by  the 
object  of  his  choice,  who  might  otherwise  be 
the  first  object  of  your  wife's  suspicion  and 
your  wife's  hostility.  Remember  the  bottle  we 
have  discovered  up  stairs,  and  keep  this  desper- 
ate woman  ignorant,  and  therefore  harmless, 
as  lonor  as  you  can.  There  is  my  advice,  Mr. 
Noel,  in  the  fewest  and  plainest  words.  What 
do  you  say,  Sir  ?  Am  1  almost  as  clever,  in 
my  way,  as  your  friend  Mr.  Bygrave  ?  Can  I, 
too,  conspire  a  little,  when  the  object  of  my 
conspiracy  is  to  assist  your  wishes  and  to  pro- 
tect your  friends?" 

Permitted  the  use  of  his  tongue  at  last, 


Mrs.  Lecount  laid  down  the  Draught  letter 
from  which  she  had  been  dictating  thus  far, 
and  informed  Noel  Vanstone  by  a  sign  that 
his  pen  might  rest, 

"  We  have  come  to  the  (jucstion  of  time. 
Sir,"  she  observed.  "  How  long  will  you  give 
your  cousin  to  marry,  if  he  is  single,  or  a 
widower,  at  the  time  of  your  death  ?" 

"  Shall  I  give  him  a  year  ?"  inquired  Noel 
Vanstone. 

"If  we  had  nothing  to  consider  but  the  in- 


Noel  Vanstone's  admiration  of  Mrs.  Lecount  \  terests  of  Propriety,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  I 
e.xpressed  itself  in  terms  precisely  similar  to  |  should  say  a  year  too,  Sir  —  especially  if  Mr. 
those  which  he  had  used  on  a  former  occasion  I  George  should  happen  to  be  a  widower.  But 
in  payin;j  his  compliments  to  Captain  Wragge.  j  we  have  your  wife  to  consider  as  well  as  the 
"  What  a  head  you  have  got  I"  were  the  grate-  j  interests  of  Propriety.  A  year  of  delay  be- 
ful  words  he  had  once  spoken  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  '  tween  your  death  and  your  cousin's  marriage 
bitterest  enemy.  "AVIiat  a  head  you  have  is  a  dangerously  long  time  to  leave  the  dis- 
got  I"  were  the  grateful  words  which  he  now  '  posal  of  }our  lortune  in  suspense.  Give  a 
spoke  again  to  Mrs.  Lecount  licsrself  So  do  j  determined  woman  a  year  to  plot  and  contrive 
e.xfreme.'*  meet;  and  such  is  sometimes  the, all-  in,  and  there  is  no  saying  what  she  may  not 
embracing  capacity  of  the  approval  of  a  fool !    do." 

"  Allow  my  head,  Sir,  to  deserve  the  com-  ^      "  Six  months  ?"  suegested  Noel  Vanstone. 
pliment  which  you  have  paid  to  it,"  saitl  Mrs.  |      "  Six  months.  Sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount. 


recount.  "  Tlie  letter  to  the  admiral  is  not 
written  yet.  Your  will  there  is  a  bo<lv  witli- 
out  a  soul  —  an  Adam  without  an  Eve  — until 
the  letter  is  completed  and  lai<l  by  its  side.  A 
little  more  dictation  on  my  part,  a  little  more 
writing  on  yours,  and  our  work  is  done.  Par- 
don nie.  The  letter  will  be  longer  than  the 
will ;  we  must  have  larger  paper  than  the  note- 
paper  this  time." 


is  the  preterable  time  of  the  two.  A  six- 
months  interval  from  the  day  of  your  death  is 
enough  for  Mr.  George.  You  look  discompiSsed. 
Sir.     What  is  the  matter  ?'  * 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  so  much  about 
my  death,"  he  broke  out,  petulantly.  "  I  don't 
like  it  I     I  hate  the  very  sound  of  the  word  I" 

Mrs.  Lecount  smiled  resignedly,  and  referred 
;  to  her  Draught. 


Th«»  writing-ca,'**'   wa»  S4'«rchc.d,  and  some  ;      *'  I  see  the  word  'Decease'  written  here," 


»16 


50  NAMISI 


she    remarked.     "  Perhaps,  Mr.   Noel,    you 

would  prefer  it  ?" 

"  Yep,"  he  said  ;    "  I  prefer  '  Decease.*    It 

doesn't  sound  so  dreadful  as  '  Death.'  " 
"  Let  U3  go  on  with  the-letter,  Sir." 
She  resumed  her  dictation,  a»  follows  : 

" in  either  of  those  cases  I  make  it 

a  condition  of  his  receiving  the  legacy  that  he 
shall  be  married  within  the  period  of  Six  cal- 
endar months  from'  the  day  of  my  decease ; 
that  the  woman  he  marries  shall  not  be  a 
widow ;  and  that  his  mai-riage  shall  be  a  mar- 
riage by  Bans,  publicly  celebrated  in  the 
parish  church  of  Osfory  —  where  he  has  been 
IcnoVn  from  his  childhood,  and  where  the 
family  and  circumstances  of  his  future  wife 
are  likely  to  be  the  subject  of  •  public  interest 
and  inquiry." 

"  This,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  quietly  looking 
up  from  the  Draught,  '*  is  to  protect  Mr. 
George,  Sir,  in  case  the  same  trap  is  set  for 
him  wliic-h  was  successfully  set  for  you.  She 
will  not  find  her  false  character  and  her  false 
name  fit  quite  so  easily  next  time  —  no,  not 
e.ven  with  Mr.  Bygrave  to  help  her!  Another 
dip  of  ink,  Mr.  Noel;  let  us  write  the  next 
paragraph.     Are  you  ready  V  ' 

"Yes."    ' 

Mrs.  Lecount  went  on  :       , 

"  If  your  nephew  fails  to  comply  with  these 
conditions  —  that  is  to  say,  if,  being  either  a 
bachelor  or  a  widower  at  the  time  of  my 
decease,  he  fails  to  many  in  all  respects  as 
I  have  here  instructed  him  to  marry,  within 
Si.K  calendar  months  from  that  time-r-it  is  my 
desire  that  he  shall  not  receive  the  legacy, 
nor  any  part  of  it.  I  request  ynu,  in  the  case 
here  supposed,  to  pass  him  over  altogether.  , 
and  to  give  the  fortune  left  you  in  my  will 
to  his  married  sister,  Mrs.  Girdlestone. 

"  Having  now  put  you  in  possession  of  my 
motives  and    intentions  I  come  to  the   next  ^ 
question  which  it  is  necessary  to  consider.     If, 
when  you  open  this  letter,  j-our  nepiiew  is  an  ' 
unmarried  man,  it  is  clearly  indispensable  that 
he  should  luiow  o^'  the  conditions  here  imposed 
on   him  as  soon,  if  possible,  as  you  know   ol  j 
them  >ourself.     Are  yOu,  under  these  circum- 
stances, freely  to   communicate  to  him  what 
I  have   here  written   to  you  ?     Or  ara  you 
to   leave  him   under  the  impression  that  ,  no 
such  private  expression  of  my  wishes  as  this  is 
in  existence  ;  and  are  you  to  state  all  the  con- 
ditions relating  to   his   marriage   as   if   they 
emanated  entirely  from  yours*  If? 

"  k' you  will  adopt  this  latter  altern.ative 
you  will  add  one  more  to  the  many  obliga- 
tions under  which  your  friendship  has  placed 
me". 

"  I  have  serious  reasons  to  believe  that  the 
possession  of  my  money,  and  the  discovery  of 
any  peculiar  arrangements  relating  to  the  dis- 
posal of  it,  will  be  object*  (after  my  decease) 


of  the  fraud  and  conspiracy  of  an  unscfupa- 
lous  person.  I  am  therefore  anxious  —  for 
your  sake,  in  the  first  place — that  no  suspicion 
of  the  existence  of  this  letter  should  be  con- 
veyed to  the  mind  of  the  person  to  whom  I 
allude.  And  I  am  equally  desirous — for  Mrs. 
Girdlestone's  sake,  in  the  second  place  —  that 
this  same  person  should  be  entirely  ignorant 
that  the  legacy  will  pass  into  Mrs.  Girdle- 
stone's  possession  if  your  nephew  is  not  mar- 
ried in  the  ^iven  time.  I  know  George's 
easy,  pliable  disposition  ;  I  dread  the  attempts 
that  will  be  made  to.  practice  oq  it;  and  I 
feel  sure  that  the  prudent  course  will  be ' 
to  abstain  from  trusting  him  with  secrets,  the 
rash  revelation  of  which  might  be  followed  by 
serious  and  even  dangerous  results. 

"  Statfi  the  conditions,  therefore,  to  your 
nephew  as  if  they  were  your  own.  Let  him 
think  they  have  been  suggested  to  your  mind 
by  the  new  responsibilities  imposed  on  you  as 
a  man  of  property,  by  )our  position  in  my 
will,  and  by  your  consequent  anxiety  to  pro- 
vide for  the  perpetuation  of  the  family  name. 
If  these  reasons  are  riot  sufficient  to  satisfy 
him  there  ean  be  no  objection  to  your  refer- 
ring him,  for  ai|y  further  explanations  which 
lie  may  desire,  to  his  wedding-day. 

'•  I  have  done.  .  My   last   wislies   are  now 

confided  to  you,  in  implicit  reliance  on  your 

honor,  and   on   your  tender   regard    for   the 

memory  of  your   friend.     Of  the    miserable 

circumstances  whicli  compel  me  to  write  as  I 

;  liave  written    here   I  say  nothing.     You  will 

j  hear  of  them,  if  my  life  is  spared,  from  my 

j  own  lips,  tor  you  will  be  the  first  friend  whom 

j  I  shall  consult  in  my  dilficulty  and  distress. 

i  Keep  this  letter  strictly  secret,  and  strictly  in 

your  own  possession,  until  my  requests  are 

j  eomplicd    with.     Let    no   human    being   but 

j  yourself  know   where  it  is,  on  .any  pretense 

I  whatever. 

"■  Believe  me,  dear  Admiral  Bartram, 
"  Affectionately  your»', 

"  NoKi.  Van'stone." 

I  "  Have  you  signed.  Sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Le- 
'  count.  ••  Let  me  look  the  letter  over,  if  you 
!  pleitse,  before  we  seal  it  tip." 
I  She  read  the  letter  .carefully.  In  Noel 
j  Vanstone's  close,  cramped  handwriting ^t 
;  filled  two  pages  of  letter-pajjer,  and  ended 
j  at  the  top  of  the  third  page.  Instead  of 
I  using  an  envelope,  Mrs.  Lecount  folded  it 
;  neatly  and  securely  in  the  old-fashioned  way. 
^  She  lit  the  taper  in  the  inkstand,  and  re- 
'  turned  the  letter  to  the  writer. 
!  "  Seal  it,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  -'  with  your 
own  hand  and  your  own  seal."  She  extin- 
guished the  taper,  and  handed  him  the  pen 
I  again.  "  Address  the  letter.  Sir,'  she  pro- 
i  ceeded,  "  to  Admiral  Bartram,  St.  Crux-in-the- 
j  Mtirak,  Exsex.  Now  add  tiiese  words,'  and 
I  sign  them,  above  the  address :  To  be  kept 
I  in  your  own  possession,  and  to  be  opened  by 
f  yourself  only,   on   the  day  of  my  death  —  or 


NO  NAME. 


217- 


'  decease,'  if  you  prefer  it  —  Noel  Vanstone. 
Have  you  done  V  Let  me  look  at  it  again. 
Quite  right,  in  every  particular.  Accept  my 
congratulations,  Sir.  If  your  wife,  has  not 
plotted  her.  last  plot  for  the  Combe -Raven 
money  it  is  not  your  fault,  Mr.  Noel— and  not 
mine  !" 

Finding  his  attention  released  by  the  com- 
pletion of  the  letter,  Noel  Vanstone  reverted 
at  once  to  purely  personal  considerations. 
"  There  is  my  packing  -  up  to  be  thought  of 
now,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  go  away  without  my 
•warm  things." 

"  Excuse  me.  Sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Leconnt, 
"  there  is  the  Will  to  be  signed  first ;  and'.there 
must  be  two  persons  found  to  witness  your 
signature."  She  looked  out  of  the  front  win- 
dow, and  saw  the  carriage  ^yaiting  at  the 
door.  "  The  coachman  will  do  for  one  of  the 
witnesses,"  she  said.  "s^Hc  is  in  respectaUle 
service  at  Dumfries,  anQ  he  can  be  ibund  if 
he  happens  to  be  wanted.  We  must  have 
one  of  your  own  servants,  I  suppose,  for  the 
other  witness.  They  are  all  detestable  wom- 
en— but  the  cook  is  the  least  ill-looking  of  th,e 
three.  Send  for  the  cook.  Sir,  while  I  go  out 
and  call  the  coschman.  When  we  have  got 
our  witnesses  here  you  have  only  to  speak 
to  them  in  these  words :  '  I  have  a  document 
here  to  sign,  and  I  wish  you  to  write  your 
names  on  it  as  witnesses  of  my  signature.' 
Nothing  more,  Mr.  Noel.  Say  those  few  words 
in  your  usual  manner  ;  and  when  the  signing 
is  over  I  will  see  myself  to  your  packing-up 
and  your  warm  things." 

She  went  to  the  front  door,  and  summoned 
the  coachman  to  the  parlor.  On  her  return 
she  Jouiid  the  cook  already  in  the  room.  The 
cook  looked  mysteriously  olfendcd,  and  stared 
without  intermission  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  In  a* 
minute  more  the  coachman  —  an  elderly  man 
—  came  in.  He  was  preceded  by  a  relishing 
odor  of  whiskey  —  but  his  head  was  Scotch; 
and  nothing  but  his  odor  betrayed  hiAi. 

•'  I  have  a  document  here  to  sign,"  said 
Noel  Vanstone,  repeating  his  lesson  ;  "  and  J 
wish 'you  to  write  your  names  on  it  as  wit- 
nesses of  my  signature." 

,  The  coachmau  looked  at  th^  will.  The 
cook  never  removed  her  eyes  from  Mrs.  Le- 
.count. 

*'  Ye  '11  no  object.  Sir,"  said  the  coachman, 
with  the  national  caution  showing  itself  in 
every  wrinkle  on  his  facp — "ye  '11  no  object, 
Sir,  to  tell  me  first  what  the  Doecument  may 
be  T' 

'  Mrs.  Lecount  interposed  before  Noel  Vau- 
stonc's  indignation  could  express  itself  in 
words. 


a  sair  confronting  of  Death  in  a  Doecument 
like  yon!  A'  flesh  is  grass,"  continued  the 
coachman,  exhaling  an  additional  pufF  of 
whiskey,  and  looking  up  devoutly  at  the  ceil-, 
ing.  "  Tak'  those  words  in  connection  with 
that  other  Screepture :  Many  are  ca'd,  but 
few  are  chosen.  Tak'  that  again  in  connec- 
tion with  Rev'lations,  Chapter  the  First, 
verses  One  to  Fefteen.  Lay  the  whole  to 
heart,  and  what  's  your  Walth  then  ?  Dross, 
Sirs!  And  your  body '?  (Screepture  again.) 
Clay  for  the  potter  !  And  your  life  ?  (Screep- 
ture once  more.)  The  Breeth  o'  your  Nos- 
trils !" 

The  cook  listenecl  as  if  the  cook  was  at 
church;  but  she  never  removed  her  eyes  from 
Mrst  Lecount. 

"  You  had  better  sign.  Sir.  This  is  appar- 
ently some  custom  prevalent*  in  Dumfries 
during  the  transaction  of  business,"  said  Mrs. 
Lecount,  resignedly.  "  The  man  means  well, 
I  dare  say." 

She  added  those  last  words  in  a  soothing 
tone,  for  she  saw  that  Noel  Vanstone's  indig- 
nation was  fast  merging  into  alarm.  The 
coachman's  outburst  of  exhortatioa  seemed 
to  have  inspired  him  with  fear  as  well  as  dis- 
gust. 

He  dipped  the  pert  in  the  ink,  and  signed 
the  Will  without  uttering  a  word.  The 
coachman  (descending  instantly  from  Theolo- 
gy to  Business)  watched  the  signature  with 
the  most  scrupulous  attention  ;  and  signed  his 
own  name  as  witness,  with  an  implied  com- 
mentary on  the  proceeding  in  the  form  of 
another  puff  of  wniskey,  exhaled  through  the 
medium  of  a  heavy  sigh.  The  cook  looked 
away  from  Mrs.  Lecount  with  an  effort  — 
sighed  her  name  in  a  violent  hurry,  and  look- 
ed back  again  with  a  start,  as  if  she  expected 
to  see  a  loaded  pistol  (produced  in  the  inter-  ' 
val)  in  the  housekeeper's  hands.  "  Thank 
you !"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  in  her  friendliest 
manner.  The  cook  shut  up  her  lips  aggres- 
sively,'^nd  looked  at  her  master.  ''  You  may 
go!"  said  her  master.  The  cook  coughed 
contemptuously  and  went. 

"We  shan't  keep  you  long,"  said  Mrs.  Le- 
count, dismissing  the  coachman.  .  "  In  half  an 
hour  or  less  we  shall  be  ready  for  the  journey 
back." 

The  coachman's  austere  countenance  relax- 
ed for  the  first  time.  He  smiled  mysteriously, 
and  approached  Mrs.  Lecount  on  tip-toe. 

"  Ye'll  no  forget  one  thing,  my  leddy,"  he 
said,  with    the    most  ingratiating   politenesa. 
"  Ye  '11  no  tbrget  the  witnessing,  as  .weel  as 
the  driving,   when   ye   ])ay  mc  for   my  day's  • 
wark  !"     Ue  laughed  with  guttural  gravity; 


"You  must  tell  the  man,  Sir,  that  this  is  {  and,  leaving  his  atmosphere  behind  him,  stalk 
your  Will,"  she  said.     "When  he  witnesses    ed  out  of  the  voom. 


your  signature,  he  can  see  as  much  for  himself 
if  he  looks  at  the  top  of  the  page." 

'^Ay,  ay,"  said   the  coac-hman,  looking  at 
the  top  ol  the  page  immediately.     "  His  last 
WuU  and  Testament.      Hech,  Sirs  I  there    s 
*/8 


Lecount."  said  Noel  Vanstone,  as  soon  as 
the  coachman  closed  the  door  —  "did  1  hear 
you  tell  that  man  we  should  be  read}  in  half 
an  hour?"  » 

"  Yes,  Sir  I" 


218 


NO  NMIE. 


"  Are  you  blind  ?" 

He  asked  the  question  with  an^ngry  stamp 
of  his  foot.  Mrs.  Lecount  looked  at  him  iu 
ztstonishment. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  brute  is  drunk  ?"  he 
went  on,  more  and  more  irritably.  "Is  my 
lifejiothing?  Am  I  to  be  left  at  the 'mercy 
of  a  drunken  coachman  ?  I  won't  trust  that 
man  to  drive  me  for  any  consideration  under 
heaven  !  I  'm  surprised  you  could  think  of  it, 
Lecount!" 

"  The  man  has  been  drinking,  Sir,"  said 
Mrs.  Lecount.  "  It  is  easy  to  see  and  to  smell 
that.  But  ho  is  evidently  used  to  drinking. 
If  he  is  sober  enough  to  walk  quite  straight, 
which  he  certainly  does,  and.{^o  sign  his  name 
ID  an  excellent  handwriting,  which  you  may 
see  for  yourself  on  the  Will,  I  venture  to  think 
he  is  sober  enough  to  drive  us  to  Dumfries." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort !  •  Yon  're  a  foreigner, 
Lecount:  you  don't  understand  tfiese  people. 
They  drink  whiskey  from  morning  to  night. 
Whiskey  is  the  strongest  spirit  that 's  made ; 
whiskey  is  notorious  for  its  effect  on  the  brain. 
Ttell  you  I  won't  run  (he  risk.  I  never  was 
driven,  and  I  never  will  be  driven,  by  anybody 
but  a  sober  man." 

"Must  I  go  back  to  Dumfries  by  mvself. 
Sir?"  ^ 

"  And  leave  me  here  V  Leave  me  alone  in 
this  house  after  what  has  happened  ?  How  do 
I  know  my  wife  may  not  come  back  to-night  V 
How  do  I  know  her  journey  is  not  a  blind  to 
mislead  me  V  Have  you  no  feeling,  Lecount  V 
Can  you  leave  me  in  my  miserable  situa- 
tion—  ?"  He  sank  into  a  chair,  and  burst 
out  crying  over  his  own  idea  before  he  had 
com])leted  the  e.\pression  of  it  in  words.  *'Too 
bad !"  he  said,  with  his  handkerchief  over  his 
face — "  too  bad  1" 

It  was  impossible  not  to  pity  him.  If  ever 
mortal  was  pitiable,  he  was  the  man.  tie  Iiad 
broken  down  at  last,  under  tho  conflict  of  vio- 
lent emotions  which  had  been  roused  in  him 
since  the  morning.  The  e0brt  to  follow  Mrs. 
Lecount  along  the  mazes  of  intricate  com- 
bination through  which  she  had  steadily  IiyJ 
the  "way  had  upheld  him  while  that  eflfbrt 
lasted;  the  moment  it  was  at  an  end  he 
dropped.  The  coachman  had  hastened  a  re- 
sult—  of  which  the  coachman  was  lar  from 
being  the  cause. 

"You  surprise  me,  you  distress  me,  Sir,"  said 
Mrs.  Lecount.  "  I  entreat  you  to  compose 
yourself.  I  will  stay  here,  if  you  wish  it,  with 
pleasure  —  I  will  stay  here  to-night  for  your 
.sake.  You  want  rest  and  quiet  after  this 
dreadful  day.  The  coachman  shall  be  instantly 
sent  away,  Mr.  Noel.  I  will  give  him  a  note 
to  the  landlord  of  the  hotel, -and  the  carriage 
shall  come  back  for  us  to-morrow  morning  with 
another  man  to  drive  it." 

The  prospect  which  those  words  presented 
cheered  him.  He  wiped  his  eyes,  afid  kissed 
Mrs.  Lecount's  hand. 

"  Yes,"  l»e  said,  faintly ;  "  sQpd  the  coach- 


man away  —  and  you  stop  here.  You  good' 
creature!  You  e.xcellent  Lecount !  Send  the 
drunken  brute  away,  and  come  back  directly. 
We  wilt  be  comfortable  by  the  fire,  Lecount 
—  and  have  a  nice  little  dinner  —  and  try  to 
make  it  like  old  times."  His  weak  voice  fal- 
tered ;  he  returned  to  the  fireside,  and  melted 
into  tears  again  under  the  pathetic  influence 
of  hi.s  own  idea. 

Mrs.  Lee.ountlefl  him  for  a  minute  to  dismiss 
the  coachman.  When  she  returned  to  the  par- 
lor she  fgund  him  with  his  hand  on  the  bell. 

"  What  do  you  want.  Sir?"  she  asked. 

"  I  want  to  tell  the  servants  to  get  your  room 
ready,"  he  answered.  "  I  wish  to  show  you 
every  attention,  Lecount." 

"  You  arc  all  kindness,  Mf.  Noel ;  but  wait 
one  moment.  It  may  bs  well  to  have  these 
papers  put  out  of  the  way  before  the  servant 
comes  in  again.  If  3'^u  will  place  the  Will 
and  the  Sealed  Letter  together  in  one  envel- 
ope— and  if  you  will  direct  it  to  the  admiral — 
I  will  take  care  that  the  inclosure  so  addressed 
is  safely  placed  in  Jiis  own  hands.  Will  you 
come  to  the  table,  Mr.  Noel,  only  for  one  mo- 
ment more?"  J. 

No!  He  was  obstinate;  he  refused  to  move 
from  the  fire ;  he  Avas  sick  and  tired  of  writ- 
ing ;  he  t\'ished  he  had  never  been  born,  and 
he  loathed  the  .sight  of  pen  and  ink.  All  Mrs. 
Lecount's  patience,  and  all  Mrs.  Lecount's 
persuasion,  were  requised  to  induce  him  to 
write  the  admiral's  address  for  the  second  time. 
She  only  succeeded  by  bringing  the  blank 
envelope  to  him  upon  the  paper-case,  and  put- 
ting it  coaxuigly  on  his  lap.  He  grumbled,  he 
even  swore,  but  he  directed  the  envelo[)e  at 
last  in  tliese  terms j  "To  Admiral  Bartram, 
•  St.  Cru.x-in-the-Marsh.  Favored  by  Mrs.  Le- 
(*ount."  With  that  final  act  of  compliance  his 
docility  came  to  an  end.  He  refused,  in  the 
fiercest  terms,  to  seal  the  envelope. 

There  was  no  need  to  press  this  proceeding 
on  him.  His  seal  lay  ready  on  the  table;  and 
it  mattered  nothing  whether  he  used  it  or 
whether  a  person  in  his  confidence  used  it  for 
him.  Mrs.  Lecount  sealed  the  envelope  with 
its  two  important  inclosurcs  placed  safely  in- 
side. * 

She  opened  her  tpvelling-bag  for  the  last 
time,  and,  pausing  for  a  moment  before  she  put 
the  sealed  packet  awaj-^,  looked  at  it  with  a 
triumph  too  deep  for  words.  She  smiled  as 
she  dropped  it  into  the  bag.  Not  the  shadow 
of  a  suspicion  that  the  will  might  contain 
superfluous  phrases  and  expressions  which  no 
practical  lawyer  would  have  used ;  not  the 
vestige  of  a  doubt  whether  the  letter  was  quite 
as  complete  a  document  as  a  practical  lawyer 
might  have  made  it,  troubled  her  mind.  In 
blind  reliance--— born  of  her  hatred  for  Magda- 
len and  her  hunger  for  revenge  —  in  blind 
reliance  on  her  own  abilities,  and  on  her 
friend's  law,  she  trusted  the  future  implicitly 
to  the  promise  of  the  morning's  work. 

As  she  locked  her  travelling-bag  Noel  Van- 


NO  NAME. 


219 


stone  rang  the  bell.  On  this  occasion  the 
Bummons  was  answered  by  Louisa. 

"  Get  the  sj)are  room  ready,"  said  her  mas- 
ter; "this  lady  will  sleep  here  to-night.  And 
nir  my  warm  things ;  this  lady  and  1  arc  going 
away  to-morrow  morning." 

The  civil  and  submissive  Louisa  received 
her  orders  in  sullen  silence,  darfed  an  angry 
look  at  her  master's  im])enetrable  guest,  and 
left  the  roon>  The  servants  were  evidently 
all  attached  to  their  mistress's  interests,  and 
were  all  of  one  opinion  on  the  subject  of  Mrs. 
Lecount. 

"That's  done!''  .faid  Noel  Vanstone,  with  a 
sigh  of  infinite  relief.  "  Come  and  sit  down, 
Lecount.  Let 's  bp  comfortable — let  *8  gossip 
over  the  fire." 

Mrs.  Lecount  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
drew  an  easy-ehair  to  his  side.  He  took  her 
hand  with  a  confidential  tenderness,  and  held 
it  in  his,  while  the  talk  went  on.  A  stranger 
looking  in  through  the  window  would  have 
taken  them  for  mother  and  son,,  and  would 
have  thought  to  himself,  "What  a  happy 
home ! ' 

TIh>  gossip,  led  by  Noel  Vanstone^  con- 
sisted, as  usual,  of  an  endless  string  of  ques- 
tions, and  was  devoted  entirely  to  the  subject 
of  himself  and  his  future  prospect^.  Where 
would  Lecount  take  him  to  wlien  they  went 
away  the  next  morning?  Why  to  London? 
Why  should  he  be  left  in  London,  while  Le- 
count went  on  to  St.  Crux  to  give  the  admiral 
the  Ij<nter  and  the  Will  ?  Because  his  wife 
might  follow  him  if  he  went  to  the  admiral's? 
Well,  there  was  something  in  that.  And 
because  he  ought  to  be  safely  concealed  from 
her  in,  some  comfortable  lodging  near  Mr. 
Ix»scombe  ?  Why  near  Mr.  Loscombe  ?  Ah, 
^es,  to  be  sure — to  know  what  the  law  would 
do  to  help  him.  Would  the  law  set  him  free 
from  the  Wretch  who  had  deceived  him? 
IIow  tiresome  of  Lecount  not  to  know !  Would 
the  law  say  he  had  gone  and  married  himself 
a  second  time  because  he  had  been  living 
with  the  Wretch  like  husband  and  wife  in 
Scotland  ?  Anything  that  publicly  assumed 
to  be  a  marriage  w<is  a  marriage  (he  had 
heard)  in  Scotland  ?  IIow  exces.sively  tire- 
some of  I^iccount  to  sit  there  and  .say  she 
knew  nothing  about  it!  AVas  he  to  stay  long 
in  I^ondon  by  himself,  with  noboily  but  Mr. 
I>oscombe  to  speak  to  ?  Would  Lee  ouiit  come 
ba<.k  to  him  as  soon  as  she  had  put  those  im- 
portant ])aper3  in  the  admiral's  own  hands  ? 
Would  Lecount  consider  herself  still  in  his 
service?  Tiie  good  lyccount  I  the  excellent 
Lecount!  And  after  all  the  law  business  was 
over,  what  then  ?  Why  not  leave  this  horrid 
Knglai^  and  go  abroad  again  ?  Why  not  go 
to  France,  to  some  cheap  plat-e  near  Paris? 
Say  VersailK'S  ?  say  SL  Oermain  ?  In  a  nice 
little  French  house  —  cheap?  With  a  nice 
French  bonne  to  cook  —  who  wouldn't  waste 
his  substance  in  the  greaae-pot  ?  With  a  nice 
little  garden  —  where  he  could  vrork  himself, 


and  get  health,  and  save  the  expense  of  keep- 
ing a  gardener  ?  It  wasn't  a  bad  idea?  Antl 
it  seevned  to  promise  well  for  the  future  — 
didn't  it,  Ivccount  ? 

So  he  ran  on — the  poor,  weak  creatur^  the 
abject,  miserable  little  man  I  * 

As  the  darkness  gathered  at  the  close  of 
the  sliort  November  day,  he  began  to  grow 
drowsy  —  his  ceaseless  questions  came  to  an 
end  at  last — he  fell  asleep.  The  wind  outside 
sang  its  mournful  winter-song;  the  tramp  of 
passing  foof8tcj)s,  the  roll  of  passing  Avheels 
on  the  road,  ceased  in  dreary  silence.  He 
slept  on  quietly.  The  firehght  rosp  and  fell 
on  his -wizen  litlle  face,  and  his  nerveless, 
drooping  hands.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  pitied 
him  yet.  She  began  to  pity  him  now.  Her 
point  was  gained  ;  her  interest  in  his  will  was 
secured  ;  he  had  put  his  future  life,  of  his  own 
accord,  under  her  fostering  care — the  fire  was' 
comfortable  ;  the  cireumstajices  were  favora- 
ble to  the  growth  of  Christian  feeling.  "  Poor 
wretch !"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  looking  at  him 
with  a  grave  compassion — "  Poor  wretch  1" 

The  dinner- hour  roused  him.  He  was 
cheerful  at  dinner;  he  reverted  to  the  idea 
of  the  chenp  little  house  in  France  ;  he  smirk- 
ed and  simpered  ;  and  talked  French  to  Mrs. 
Lecount,  while  the  housemaid  and  Louisa 
waited,  turn  and  turn  about,  under  protest. 
When  dinner  was  over  he  returned  to  his 
comfortable  chair  before  the  fire,  and  Mrs. 
Lecount  followed  him.  Ho  resumed  the  con- 
versation—  which  meant,  in  his  case,  rej)eat- 
ing  his  questions.  But  he  was  not  so  quick 
and  ready  with  them  as  he  had  been  earlier 
in  the  day.  They  began  to  flag  —  they  con- 
tinued, at  longer  and  longer  intervals  —  tney 
ceased  altogether.  Toward  nine  o'clock  he 
feel  asleep  again. 

It  was  not  a  quiet  sleep  this  time.  He 
muttered,  and  ground  his  teeth,  and  rolled 
his  hyad  from  side  to  side  of  the  chair.  Mrs. 
LeVount  purposely  made  noise  enough  to  rouse 
him.  He  woke  with  a  vacunt  eye  and  a 
flushed  cheek.  He  walked  about  the  room 
restles!<ly,  with  a  new  idea  in  his  mind  —  the 
idea  of  writing  a  terrible  letter;  a  letter  of 
eternal  farewell  to  his  wife.  How  was  it  to 
be  written?  In  what  language  should  he  ex- 
press his  feelings?  The  j)Owers  of  Shake- 
speare himself  would  be  unequal  to  the  emer- 
gency !  He  had  been  tin:  victim  of  an  outrage 
entirely  without  parallel.  A  wretch  had  crept 
into  his  bosom  1  A  viper  had  hidden  herself 
at  his  fireside  !  When;  could  wonis  be  found 
to  brand  her  with  the  infamy  .she  deserved  ? 
He  stopped  with  a  suffocating  sense  in  him  of 
his  own  impotent  rage — he  stoppcfi  and  shook 
his  fist  tremulously  in  the  empty  air. 

Mr.s.  ly<'count  interfered  with  an  energy 
and  a  rcvjiution  inspired  by  serious  alarm. 
After  the  heavy  strain  that  had  been  laid  on 
his  weakness  already,  such  an  outbreak  of 
passionate  agitation  as  was  now  bursting  from 
him  might  be  the  destraction  of  his  rest  that 


220 


NO  NAME, 


night  and  of  his  strength  to  travel  the  next 
day.  With  infinite  difficulty,  with  endless 
promises  to  return  to  the  subject,  an(i  to  acT- 
vise  him  about  it  in  the  morning,  she  prevailed 
on  him  at  last  to  go  up  stairs  and  compose 
himself  for  the  night.  She  gave  him  her  arm 
to  assist  him.  On  the  way  up  stairs  his  atten- 
tion, to  her  great  relief,  became  suddenly 
absorbed  by  a  new  fancy.  He  remembered 
a  certain  warm  and  comforting  mixture  of 
wine,  egg,  sugar,  and  spices,  which  she  had 
often  been  accustomed  to  make  for  him  in 
former  times,  and  which  he  thought  he  should 
relish  exceedingly  before  he  went  to  bed. 
Mrs.  Lecount  lielped  him  on  with  his  dressing- 
gown,  then  went  down  stairs  again  to  make 
his  warm  drink  for  him  at  the  parlor  fire. 

She  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  nec- 
essary ingredients  for  the  mixture  ■  in  Noel 
Vanstone's  name.  The  servants,  with  the 
small,  ingenious  malice  of  their  race,  brought 
.up  the  materials  one  by  one,  and  kept  her 
waiting  for  each  of  them  as  long  as  possible. 
She  had  got  the  saucepan,  and  the  spoon,  and 
the  tumbler,  and  the  nutmeg-grater,  and  the 
wine— but  not  the  egg,  the  su^ar,'or  the  spices 
—  when  she  heard  him  above  walkino-  back- 
ward and  forward  n9isily  in  his  room,  exciting 
himself  on  the  old  subject  again  beyond  all 
doubt. 

She  went  up  stairs  once  m6re ;  but  he  was 
too  quick  for  her  — he  heard  her  outsjde  the 
door ;  andwhen.  she  opened  it  she  found  him 
in  his  chair,  with  his  back  cunningly  turned 
toward  her.    Knowing  him  too  well  to  attempt 


any  remonstrance,  she  merely  announced  the 
speedy  arrival  of  ihe  warm  drink,  and  turned 
to  leave  the  room.  On  her  'way  out  she 
noticed  a  table  in  a  corner,  with  an  inkstand 
and  a  paper- case  on  it,  and  tried,  without 
attracting  his  attention,  to  take  the  writinrr 
materials  away.  He  was  too  quick  for  her 
again.  He  asked  angrily  if.  she  doubted  his 
promise.  She  put  the  writing  materials  back 
on  the  table,  for  fear  of  offending  hip,-  and 
left  the  room. 

In  half  an  hour  more  the  mixture 'was  ready. 
She  carried  it  up  to  him,  foaming  and  fragrant^ 
ina  large  tumbler.  "He  will  sleep  after 
this,"  she  thought  to  herself  as  she  opened 
t!ie  door;  "  I  have  made  it  stronger  than  usual 
on  purpose." 

He  had  changed  his  place.  He  was  sitting 
at  the  table  in  the  corner — still  with  his  back 
to  her  — writing.  This  time  his- quick  ears 
had  not  served  him.  This  time  she  had  caught 
him  in  the  fact.  '^ 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Noel !  Mr.  Noel !"  she  said,  re- 
proachfully, "  what  is  your  promise  worth  ?" 

He  made  no  answer.  He  was  sitting  with 
his  left  elbow  on  the  table,  and  with  his  head 
resting  on  his  left  hand.  His  right  hand  lay 
back  on  the  paper,  with  the  pen  lying  loosed 
in  it.  "  Your  drink,  Mr,  Noel,"  she  said,  in  a 
kinder  tone,  feehng  unwilling  to  offend  him. 
He  took  no  notice  of  her. 

She  went  to  the' table  to  rouse  him.     Was  i 
he  deep  in  thought  ?  ' 

He  was  dead  !        '     , 


THE  END  OF  THE  FIKTH  SCENIS. 


BETWEEN    TH*:    SCENES. 


•PROM    MRS.    NOKL    VANSTOITE    TO    MR.    LOSOOMBE. 

"  Park  Terrace,  St.  John's  VTood,  Nov.  6. 

"  Dear  Sir — I  cama  to  London  yesterday 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing  a  relative,  leaving 
Mr.-Vanstone  at  Baliol  Cottage,  and  propos" 
ing  to  return  to  him  in  the  course  of  a  week., 
I  reached  London  late  last  night,  and  drove 
to  these  lodgings,  having  written  to  secure 
accommodation  beforehand, 

"  This  morning's  post  has  brought  me  a  let- 
ter from  my  own-  maid,  whom  I  left  at  Baliol 
Cottage,  with  icstructions  to  write  to  me  if 
anj^thing  extraordinary  took  place  in  my  ab- 
sence. You  will  find  the  girl's  letter  inclosed 
ID  this.  I  have  had  some  experience  of  her, 
and  I  believe  she  is  to  be  strictly  depended  on 
to  tell  the  truth, 

"  I  purposely  abstain  from  troubling  you  by 
any  useless  allusions  ta  myself.  When  you 
have  read  my  maid's  lette'r,  you  will  under- 
stand the  shock  whiQh  the  news  contained  in 


It  has  caused  me.  I  can  only  repeat  that  I 
place  implicit  belief  in  her  statement.  Lam 
firmly  persuaded  that  my  husband's  former 
housekeeper  has  found  him  out,  has  practiced 
on  his  weakness  in  my  absence,  and  has  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  make  another  Will.  From 
what  I  know  of  this  woman,  I  feel  no  doubt 
that  she  has  used  her  influence  over  Mr.  Van- 
stone  to  deprive  me,  if  possible,  of  all  future 
interest  in  my  husband's  fortune. 

"  Under  such  circumstances  as  these,  it  is  in 
the  last  degree  important  —  for  more  reasons 
than  I  need  mention  here  —  that  I  should  see 
Mr.  Vanstone,  and  come  to  an  explanation 
with  him  at  the  earliest  possible  opportunity. 
You  will  find  thaj;  my  maid  thoughtfully  kept 
her  letter  open  until  the  last  moment  before 
post-time — without,  however,  having  any  later 
news  to  give  me  than  Mrs.  Lecount  was  to 
sleep  at  the  cottage  Jast  night,  and  that  she 
and  JMr,  Vanstone  were  to-Jeave  together  this 
morning.     But  for  that  last  piece  of  intelli- 


NO  NAME. 


221 


gence  I  should  have  been  on  my  way  back  to 
Scotland  before  now.  As  it  is,  I  can  not  de- 
cide for  myself  what  I  ought  to  do  next.  •  My 
goin"-  back  to  Dumfries,  after  Mr.  Vanstone 
has  l^eft  it,  seems  like  taking  a  journey  for 
nothing ;  and  my  staying'  in  London  appears 
to  be  almost  equally  useless. 

"  Will  you  kindly  advise  me  in  this  difficul- 
ty ?  I  win  couje  to  you  at  Lincoln's  Inn  at 
any  time  this  afternoon  or  to-morrow  which 
you  mav  appoint.  My  next  few  hours  are 
enTaged.  As  soon  as  this  letter  is  dispatched 
T  am  going  to  Kensington,  with  the  object  of 
ascertaining  whether  ceitain.  doubts  I  feel 
tjbout  the  means  by  which  Mrs.  Lecount  may 
have  ac^'omplished  her  discovery  arc  well- 
founded  or  not.  If  you  will  let  me  have  your 
answer  by  return  of  post,  I  will  not  fail  to  get 
back  to  St.  John's  Wood  in  time  Jo  receive  it. 

"  Believe  me,  dear.  Sir,  yours  smcefely, 
"  Magdalen  Vanstone." 

n. 

KnOM  MR.    LOtiCOMBK    TO    MKS.    NOKL    VANSTONK. 

"  Lincoln's  I.vn.  Nov.  ^. 

"  Dear  Madam — Your  letter  and  its  in- 
'  Insure  have  caused  me  great  concern  and 
surprise.  Pressure  of  business  allows  me  no 
hope  of  being  able  to  ."^ee  you  cither  to-day  or 
to-morrow  morning.  But  if  three  o'clock  to- 
morrow afternoon  will  suit  you,  at  that  hour 
you  will  find  me  at  your  service. 

"I  can  not  pretend  to  offer  a  positive  opin- 
ion until  I  know  more  of  the  particulars  con- 
nected with  this  e.xtraordinary  business  than  I 
find  communicated  either  in  your  letter  or  in 
your  maid's.  But  with  this  reserve  I  venture 
to  suggest  that  your  remaining  in  London 
Hntil»to-morrow  may  possibly  lead  to  other 
results  besides  your  consultation  at  ray  cham- 
bers. There  is  at  least  a  chance  that  you  or  I 
may  hear  something  further  in  tliis  strange 
matter  by  the  morning's  post. 

"  I  remain,  dear  Madam, 
"  Faithfully  yours, 

"JOUN   LOSCOMBE." 

III. 

FROM  MRS.  NOEL  VANSTONE  TO  MISS  GARTH. 

"  Kovcmbcr  5,  Two  o'clncl: 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  Westmoreland 
House  —  after  purposely  leaving  it  in  secret, 
and  purposely  avoiding  you  under  your  own 
roof.  .  You  shall  know  wby  I  came,  and  why 
I  went  away.  It  is  due  to  my  remembrance 
of  old  times  not  to  treat  you  like  a  stranger, 
although  I  can  never  again  treat  you  like  a 
friend. 

"  I  travelled  yesterday  from  the  North  to 
London.  My  only  object  in  taking  this  long 
journey  was  to  sec  Norah  once  more.  I  had 
been  suffering  for  many  weary  weeks  past 
such  remorse  as  only  miserable  women  like  me 
can  feel.-  Perhaps  the  suffering  weakened 
me,  perhaps  it  roused  some  old  forgotten  ten- 


derness—God  knows! — T  can't  explain  it;  I 
can  only  tell  you  that  I  l^gan  to  think  of  No- 
rah by  dav,  and  to  dream  of  Norah  by  night, 
till  I  was  almost  heart-broken.  I  have  no  bet^ 
ter  reason  than  this  to  give  for  running  all  the 
risks  which  I  ran,  and  coming  to  London  to 
see  her.  I  don't  wish  to  claim  more  for  myself 
than  I  deserve ;  I  don't  wish  to  tell  you  I  was 
the  reformed  and  repenting  creature  whom 
yott  might  have  approved.  I  had  only  one 
feeling  in  me  that  I  know  of  I  wanted  to  put 
my  ftrins  round  Worah's  neck,  and  cry  my 
heart  out  on  Norah's "bosom.  Childish  enough, 
I  dare  say.  Something  might  have  come  of 
it;  nothing  might  have  cojne  of  it  —  who 
knows  ? 

"  I  had  no  rrieans  of  finding  Norah  without 
your  assistance.  However  you  might  disap- 
prove of  what  I  had  done,  I  thought  you  would 
not  refuse  to  help  me  to  find  my  sister.  When 
I  lay  do\\n  hst  night  in  my  strange  bed,  I  said 
to  inysclf,  '  I  will  ask  Miss  Garth,  for  my 
father's  sake  and  my  mother's  sake,  to  tell  me." 
You  don't  know  what  a  comfort  I  felt  in  that 
thought.  How  should  you  ?  What  do  good 
women  like  you  know  of  miserable  sinners 
like  me  ?  All  you  know  is  that  you  pray  for 
us  at  church. 

"  Well,  I  fell  asleep  happily  that  night — for 
the  first  time  since  my  marriage.  When  the 
morning  came  I  paid  the  penalty  of  daring  to 
be  happy,  only  for  one  night.  When  the 
morning  came  a  letter  came  with  it  which  told 
me  that  my  bitterest  enemy  on  earth  (you  have 
middled  sufficiently  with  my  afliiirs  to  know 
what  enemy  I  mean)  had  revenged  herself  on 
me  in  my  absence.  In  following  the  impulse 
which  led  me  to  my  sister  I  had  gone  to  my 
ruin. 

"  The  mischief  was  beyond  all  present  reme- 
dy when  I  received  the  news  of  it.  Whatever 
had  happened,  whatever  might  happen,  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  persist  in  my  resolution  of 
seeing  Norah  before  I  did  anything  else.  I 
suspected  you  of  being  concerned  in  the  disas- 
ter which  had  overtaken  me  —  because  I  felt 
positively  certain  at  Aldborough  that  you  and 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  written  to  each  other.  But 
r  nefer  suspected  Norah.  If  I  lay  on  my 
death -bed  at  this  moment  I  could  say  with  a 
safe  conscience  I  never  suspected  Norah. 

"  So  I  went  this  morning  to  Westmoreland 
House  to  ask  you  for  my  sister's  address,  and 
to  acknowledge  plainly  that  I  suspected  you 
of  being  again  in  correspondence  with  Mrs. 
Lecount. 

"  AVhen  I  inquired  for  you  at  the  door  they 
told  me  you  had  gone  out,  but  that  you  were 
expected  back  before  long.  They  asked  me 
if  I  would  see  your  sister,  who  was  then  in  the 
school-room.  I  desired  that  your  sister  should 
on  no  account  be  disturbed :  my  business  was 
not  with  her,  but  with  you.  I  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  wait  in  a  room  by  myself  until  you 
returned.  ^ 

"  They  showed  me  into  the  double  room  on 


222 


NO  NAME. 


the  ground-floor,  divided  by  curtains  —  as  it 
was  when  I  last  remember  it.  There  was  a 
fire  in  the  outer  division  of  the  room,  but 
none  in  the  inner;  and  for  that  reason,  I  sup- 
pose, the  curtains  were  drawn.  The  servant 
was  very  civil  and  attentive  to  me.  I  Iiave 
learned  to  be  thankful  for  civility  arid  atten- 
tion, and  I  spoke  to  her  as  cheerfully  as  I 
could.  I  said  to  her,  '  I  shall  see  Miss  Garth 
here  as  she  comes  up  to  the  door,  and  I  can 
beckon  her  in  throuirh  the  long  window.'  The 
servant  said  I  could  do  ^,  if  you  came  that 
way  —  but  that  you  let  yourself  in  sometimes 
with  your  own  key  by  the  back  garden-gate; 
and  if  you  did  tjiis,  she  would  take  care  to  let 
you  know  of  my  visit.  I  mention  these  trifles 
to  show  you  that  there  was  no  premeditated 
deceit  in  my  mind  when  I  cime  to  the  house. 

"I  waited  a  weary  time,  and  you  never 
.came.  I  don't  know  whether  my  impatience 
made  me  think  so,  or  whether  fche  large  fire 
burning  made  the  room  really  as  hot  as  I  felt 
it  to  be  —  I  only  know  that  after  a  while  I 
passed  through  the  curtains  into  the  inner 
room  to  try  the  cooler  atmosphere. 

"  I  walked  to  the  long  window  which  leads 
into  the  back  garden,  to  look  out;  and  •almost 
at  the  same  time  I  heard  the  door  opened  — 
the  door  6f  the  room  1  had  just  left  —  and 
your  voice  and  the  voice  of  some  other  woman, 
a  stranger  to  me,  talking.  The  stranger  was 
one  of  the  parlor  -  boarders,  I  dare  say.  I 
gathered  from  the  first  words  you  exchanged 
together  that  you  had  met  in  the  passage  — 
she  on  her  way  down  stairs,  and  you  on  your 
way  in  from  the  back  garden.  Her  next 
question  and  your  next  answer  informed  me 
that  this  person  was  a  friend  of  my  sister's, 
who  felt  a  strong  interest  in  her,  and  who 
knew  that  you  had  just  returned  from  a  visit 
to  Norah.  .So  far  I  only  hesitated  to  show 
myself  because  I  shrank,  in  my  painful  situa- 
tion, from  facing  a  stranger.  But  when  I 
heJird  my  own  name  immediately  afterward 
on  your  lips  and  on  hers,  then  I  purposely 
came  nearer  to  the  curtain  between  us,  and 
purposely  listened. 

,  "  A  mean  action,  you  will  say  ?  Call  it 
mean,  if  you  like.  What  better  can  ytm  ex- 
pect irom  such  a  woman  as  I  am  ? 

"  You  were  always  famous  for  your  memory. 
There  is  no  necessity  for  my  repeating  the 
words  you  spoke  to  your  friend,  and  the  words 
your  friend  spoke  to  you,  hardly  an  hour  since. 
When  you  read  these  lines  you  will  know,  as 
well  as  I  know,  what  those  words  told  me.  I 
ask  for  no  particulars;  I  will  take  all  your 
reasons  and  all  your  excuses  for  granted.  It 
is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  you  and  Mr. 
Pendril  have  been  searching  for  me  ^gain, 
and  that  Norah  is  in  the  conspiracy  this  time, 
to  reclaim  me  in  spite  of  myself.  It  is  enough 
for  me  to  know  that  ray  letter  to  my  sister  has 
been  turned  into  a  trap  to  catch  me,  and  that 
Mrs.  I^couat's  revenge  has  accomplished  its 


object  by  means  of  infprmation  received  frdto 
Norah's  lips. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  suffered  when  I 
heard  the  sethings?  No:  it  would  be  only  a 
waste  of  time  to  tell  you.  Whatever  I  suffer, 
I  deserve  it — don't  I  ?  , 

"  I  Avaited  in  that  inner  room — knowing  my 
own  violent  temper,  and  not  trusting  myself 
to  see  you,  after  what  I  had  heard  —  I  waited 
in  that  inner  room,  trembling'lest  the  servant 
should  tell  you  of  my  visit  before  I  could  find 
an  opportunity  of  leaving  the  house.  No  such 
misfortune  happened.  The  servant,  no  doubt, 
heard  the  voices  up  stairs,  and  supposed  that 
we  had  met  each  other  in  the  passage.  I  don't 
know  how  long  or  how  short  a  time  it  was  be- 
fore you  left  the  room  to  go  and  take  off  your 
bonnet- — you  went,  and  your  friend  went  with 
you.  I  raised  the  long  windoW'  softly  and  . 
stepped  into  the  back  garden.  The  way  by 
which  you  returned  to  the  house  was  the  way 
by  which  I  left  it.  No  blajne  attaches  to  the 
servant.  4rS  usual,  where  I  am  concerned, 
nobody  is  to  blame  but  me. 

"  Time  enough  has  passed  now  to  quiet  my 
mind  a  little.  You  kliow  how  strong  I  am  ? 
You  remember  how  I  used  to  fight  against  all 
my  illnesses  when  I  was  a  child  ?  Now  I  am 
a  woman,  I  fight  against  my  miseries  in  the 
same  way.  Don't  pity  me,  Miss  Gai'th !  Don't 
pity  me !  . 

"  I  have  no  harsh  feeling  against  Norah. 
The  hope  I  had  of  seeing  her  is  a  hope  taken 
from  me;  the  consolation  I  had  in  writing  to 
her  is  a  consolation  denied  me  for  the  future. 
I  am  cut  to  the  heart;  bi^t  I  have  no  angry 
feeling  toward  my  sister.  She  means  well, 
poor  soul  —  I  dare  say  she  means  well.  It 
would  distress  her  if  she  knew  what  has  hap- 
pened. Don't  tell  her.  Conceal  my  visit, 
and  burn  my  letter. 

•"  A  last  word  to  yourself,  and  I  have  done. 

"  If  I  rightly  understand  my  present  situa- 
tion, your  spies  are  still  searching  for  me  to 
just  as  little  purpose  as  they  searched  at  York- 
Dismiss  them  —  you  are  wasting  your  money 
to  no  purpose.  If  you  discovered  me  tp-mor- 
row,  what  could  you  do  ?  My  position  has 
altered.  I  am  no  longer  the  poor  outcast  girl, 
the  vagabond  public  performer,  whom  you 
once  hunted  after.  I  have  done  what  I  told 
you  I  would  do  —  I  have  made  the  general 
sense  of  propriety  my  accomplice  this  time. 
Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  I  am  a  respectable 
married  woman,  accountable  for  my  actions 
to  nobody  under  heaven  but  my  husband.  I 
have  got  a  place  in  the  world,  and  a  name  in 
the  world,  at  last.  Even  the  law,  which  is 
the  friend  of  all  you  respectable  people,  has 
recognized  my  existence,  and  has  become  mi/ 
friend  too.  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
gave  me  his  license  to  be  married,  and  the 
rector  of  Aldborough  performed  the  service. 
If  I  found  your  spies  following  me  in  the 
street,  and  if  I  chose  to  claim  protection  from 


NO  NAME. 


223 


them,  tlie  law  would  acknow^KiIgp  my  claim. 
You  ibrget  what  wonders  my  wi(;kedness  has 
done  for  me.  It  has  made  Nobody's  Child 
Somebody's  Wife. 

"If  you  will  give  these  consi( 
<lne  weight — if  yon  will  exert 
rommon-sense,  I  have  no  fear  of 
to  appeal  to  mynewly-found  friend  and  pro- 
tector—  the  law.  You  will  feel  by  this  time 
that  yo*u  have  meddled  with  me  at  last  to  some 
pnrjiose.  I  am  estranged  from  Norah — I  am 
djscovcrcd'by  piy  husljand — 1  am  defeated  by 
Mrs.  Leeount.  You  have  driven  me  to  the 
last  extremity  ;  you  have  strengi  hened  m(*to 
fight  the  battle  of  my  life  with  the  resolution 
which  only  a  lost  and  fri.-ndlcss  woman  can  j 
fceli  Badly  as  your  scliemes  have  prospered,  I 
they  have  not  proved  totally  useless  after  all !  i. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say.    If  you  ever  speak 
about  me  to  Norah,  tell  her  that  a  day  may  I 
come  3\'hen  she  will  see  me  again  —  the  day  j 
when  we  two  sisters  have  recovered  our  nat- 
ftral  rights;  the  day  when  I  put  Norah's  for- 
tune into  Norah's  hand. 

"  Those  are  my  last  words.  Remember 
them  the  next  time  you  feel  tempted  to  meddle 
with  me  again.      Magdalkn  Vanjtone." 

IV. 

VROM  Mil.  I.OSCOMBE  TO  MKS.  NOKL  VANSTONP. 

•  "Lincoln's  3nx,  J\'<n).  C. 

"  Dkar  Madam — This  morning's  post  has 
doubtless  brought  you  the  eame  shocking  news 
which  it  has  brought  to  me.  You  must  know 
by  this  time  that  a  terrible  afllictlon  has  be- 
fallen you  •—the  affliction  of  your  husband's 
sudden  death.  • 

"  I  am  on  the  point  of  starting  for  the  North, 
to  make  all  needful  impiirics,  and  to  perform 
whatever  dutjes  I  may  with  propriety  under- 
take, as  solicitor  to  the  deceased  gentleman. 
Let  me  earnestly  recommend  you  not  to  follow 
me  to  Baliol  Cottage  until  I  have  had  time  to 
write  to  you  first,  and  to  give  you  sueh  advice 
HH  I  can  not,  through  ignorance  of  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, jiretend  to  offer  now.  You  may 
rely  on  my  writing,  after  my  arrival  in  Scot- 
land, by  the  first  post. 

"  I  remain,  dear  Madam, 

"Faithfully  yours,. 

"JoirN  LoscoMnE." 


FHOM   MR.  TKNDUIL  TO  MI.SS  CAKTH. 

"SKARLt:  Stp.kki,  iVnr.  li. 

♦•  Dkak  Miss  (Iarth — I  return  you  Mrs. 
Noel  Vanstone's  letter.  I  can  understand  your 
mortifieation  at  the  tone  in  whicii  it  is  written, 
and  your  distress  at  the  manner  in  which  this 
unliappy  woman  lias  interpreted  the  conversa- 
tion that  she  oviTheard  at  your  hodlb.  I  can 
not  honestly  add  that  I  lament  what  has  hap- 
pened. My  opinion  has  nevi^r  altered  since 
the  Combc-Ravcn  time.     I  Relieve  Mrs.  Noel 


Yanstone  to  be  one  of  the  most  reckless,-des- 
perate,  and  perverted  women  living;  and  any 
circumstances  that  estrange  her  from  her  sis- 
ter are  circumstances  which  I  welcome  lor  lier 
sister's  sake. 

"  There  can  not  be  a  moment's  doubt  on 
the  course  you  ought  to  follow  in  this  matter. 
Even  Mrs.  Noel  Vahstone  herself  acknowl- 
edges the  propriety  of  sparing  her  sister  addi- 
tional and  unnecessary  distress.  By  all  means 
kec])  Miss  Yanstone  in  ignorance  of  the  visit 
to  Kensington, ^nd  of  the  letter  which  has  fol- 
lowed it.  It  would  be  not  only  unwise,  but 
absolutely  cruel,  to  enlighten  her.  If  we  had 
any  remedy  to  apjily,  or  even  any  hope  to 
offer,  we  might  feel  some  hesitation  in  keeping 
our  secret.  But  there  is  no  remedy  and  no  • 
hope.  ]\Irs.  Noel  Yanstone  is  peri'ectly  jus- 
tified in  the  view  she  takes  of  her  own  position. 
Neither  you  nor  I  can  assert  the  smallest  right 
to  control  her. 

"  I  have  already  taken  the  necessary  meas- 
ures for  putting  an  end  to  our  useless  incjuiries. 
In  a  few  days  I  will  write  to  Miss  A^anstone, 
and  will  do  my  best  to  tranquillize  her  mind  on 
the  subject  of  her  sister.  If  I  can  find  no 
sufficient  excuse  to  satisfy  her,  it  will  be  better 
she  should  think  we  have  discovered  nothing 
than  that  she  sliould  know  the  truth. 
"  Believe  me,  most  truly  yours, 

"William  Pkndkil." 

VI. 

rnOM  MR.  I.OSGOJIUE  TO  MRS.  NOKI.  VANSTONi:.  . 

"I,ixroLx's  Inn,  Xov.  15. 

[,'!;IV,STK.1 

"  DfiAR  Mai>am — In  cohipliance  v.ith  your 
request.  I  now  proceed  to  communicate  to  you 
in  writing  what  (but  for  the  calamity  which 
has  so  recently,  befallen  you)  I  should  have 
preferred  communicating  by  word  of  mouth. 
Be  pleased  to  consider  this  letter  as  strictly 
confidential  between  yourself  "and  me.  * 

"  I  inclose,  at  your  desire,  a  copy  of  the 
Will  executed  by  your  late  husband  on  the  3d 
of  this  month.  There  can  be  no  (juestion  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  original  document.  I 
protested,  as  a  matter  of  form,  against  Admiral 
Bartram's  solicitor  assuming  a  position  of-  au- 
thority at  Baliol  Cottage.  But  he  took  the 
position  nevertheless,  acting  as  legal  repre- 
sentative of  the  sole  Executor  under  the  sec- 
ond Will.  I  am  bound  to  say  I  should  have 
done  the  same  myselt  in  his  place. 

"The  serious  question  follows — What  can 
we  do  for  the  best  'in  your  interests?  The 
Will  executed  under  my  professional  super- 
intendence, on  the  30th  of  September  last,  is 
at  present  superseded  and  n;voked  by  the. 
second  aftd  later  Will  executed  on  the  3d  of 
November.     Can  we  dispute  this  document  ? 

"  I  doubt  the  possibility  of  disputing  the 
new  Will  on  the  face  of  it.  It  is  no  doubt 
irregularly  expressed,  but  it  is  dated,  signed, 
and   witnessed   as  the   law  directs;   and    the 


224 


NO  NAME. 


perfectly  simple  and  straiglitfoi*ward  provis- 
ions that  it  contains  are  in  no  respect,  that  I 
can  see,  technically  open  to  attack. 

"This  being  the  case,  can  we  dispute  the 
Will  on, the  ground  that  it  has  been  executed 
when  the  Testator  was  not  in  a  fit  state  to 
dispose  of  his  own  property,  or  when  the  Tes- 
tator was  subjected  to  undue  and  improper 
influence? 

"  In  the  first ^of  these  cases  the  medical  evi- 
dence would  put  an  obstacle  in  our  way.  We 
can  not  assert  that  previous  illness  had  weak- 
ened the  Testator's  mind.  It  is  clear  that  he 
died  suddenly,  as  the  doctors  had  all  along 
declared  he  would  die,  of  disease  of  the  heart. 
He  was  out  walking  in  his  garden,  as  usual, 
on  the  day  of  his  death ;  he  ate  a  hearty  din- 
ner; none  of  the  persons  in  his  service  no- 
ticed any  change  in  him ;  he  was  a  little  more 
irritable  with  them  than  usual,  but  that  was 
all.  It  is  impossible  to  attack  the  state  of  his 
faculties.  There  is  no  case  to  go  into  court 
with,  so  far. 

"  Can  we  declare  that  he  acted  under  un- 
due influence,  or,  in  plainer  terms,  under  the 
influence  of  Mvs.  Lecount  ?  • 

"  There  are  serious  difficulties,  again^  in  the 
way  of  taking  this,  course.  We  can  not  as- 
sert, for  example,  that  Mi-s.  Lecount  has  as- 
sumed a  place,  in  the  Will  which  she  has  no 
fair  claim  to  occupy.  Bhe  has  cunningly  lim- 
ited her  own  interest,  not  only  to  what  is 
fairly  her  due,  but  to  what  the  late  Mr.  Mi- 
chael Vanstone  himself  had  the  intention  of 
leavino-  her.  If  I  were  examined  on  the  sub- 
ject, I  should  be  compelled. to  acknowledge 
that  I  had  heai'd  him  express  this  intention 
myself  It  is  only  the  truth  to  say  that  I 
have  heard  him  express  it  more  than  once. 
There  is  no  point  of  attack  in  Mrs.  Lecount's 
legacy,  and  there  }s  no  point  of  attack  in  your 
late  husband's  choice  of  an  executor.  He  has 
made  the  wise  choice,  and  the  natufal  choice, 
of  the  oldest  aed  trustiest  friend  he  haid  in 
the  world. 

"  One  more  consideration  remains,  the  most 
important  which  I  have  yet  approached,  and 
therefore  the  consideration  which  I  have  re- 
served to  the  last.  On  the  30th  of  Septem- 
ber the  Testator  executes  a  will,  leaving  his 
widow  sole  executrix,  with  a  legacy  of  eighty 
thousand  pounds.  On  the  8d  of  November 
tollowi«g  he  expressly  revokes  this  Will,  and 
leaves  another  in  its  stead,  in  which  his  widow 
is  never  once  mentioned,  and  in  which  the 
whole  residue  of  his  estate,  after  payment  of 
one  comparatively  trifling  legacy,  is  left  to  a 
friend. 

"  It  rests  entirely  with  you  to  say  whether 
any  valid  reason  ^ah  or  can  mbt  be  produced 
to  explain  such  an  extraordinary  proceeding 
as  this.  If  no  reason  can  be  assigned  —  and 
I  know  of  none  myself — I  think  we  have  a 
point  here  which  deserves  our  careful  con- 
sideration, for  it  may  be  a  point  which  is 
open  to  attack.     Pray  understand  that  I  am 


'  now  appealing^  you  solely  as  a  lawyer,  who 
is  obliged  to  loOK  all  possible  eventualities  in 
the  face.  I  have  no  wish  to  intrude  on  your 
private  aff"airs ;  I  have  no  wish  to  write  a 
woi'd  which  could  be  construed  into  any  indi- 
rect reflection  on  youfself. 
•  "  If  you  tell  me  that,  so  far  as  yo.u  know, 
your  husband  capriciously  struck  you  out  of 
his  Will  without  assignable  reason  or  motive 
for  doing  so,  and  withaut  other  obvious  ex- 
planation of  his  conduct  than  that  he  acted 
in  this  matter  entirely  under  the  influence  of 
Mrs.  Lecount,  I  will  immediately  take  Coun- 
sels* opinion  touching  the  propriety  of  dis- 
puting the  Will  on  this  ground.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  tell  me  that  there  are  reasons 
(Ijnown  to  yourself,  though  unknown  to  me) 
for  not  taking  the  course  I  propose,  I  will 
accept  that  intimation  witliout  troubling  you, 
unless  you  wish  it,  to  explain  yourself  further. 
In  this  latter  event  I  will  write  to  you  again, 
for  I  shall  then  have  something  more  to  say 
which  may  greatly  surprise  you,  on  the  sub-* , 
ject  of  the  Will. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

"  John  LoscoMBE."    . 

FROM    MRS.    NOKL    VANSTONE    TO    MR.    LOSCOMBE. 

'•  JVov.  16. 

"  Dear  Sir — Accept  my  "best  thanks  for 
the  kindness  and  consideration  with  which 
you  have  treated  me,  and  let  the  anxieties 
under  which  I  am  now  suff'ering  plead  my 
excuse  if  I  reply  to  your  letter  without  cere- 
mony in  the  fewest  possible  words.       -f 

"  I  have  my  own  reasons  for  not  hesitating 
to  answer  your  question  in  the  negative.  It 
is  impossible  for  us  to  go  to  law,  as  you  pro- 
pose, on  the  subject  of  the  Will. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Sir,  yours  gratefully, 

",J|IIagdalen  Vanstoxe." 

vm. 

prom  mi?.  loscombe  to  mrs.  noel  vanstonk. 
"  Lincoln's  Inn,  Nov.  17. 

"Dear  Madam — I  beg  to  acknowledge 
the  receipt  of  your  letter  answering  my  pro- 
posal in  the  negative  for  reasons  of  your  own. 
Under  these  cii'cumstances  —  on  which  I  oflfer 
no  comment  —  I  beg"  to  perform  my  promise 
of  again  communicating  with  you  on  the  sub- 
ject of  your  late  husband's  will. 

"  Be  so  kind  as  to  look  at  your  copy  of 
the'document.  You  will  find  that  the  clause 
which  devises  the  whole  residue  of  your  hus- 
band's estate  to  Admiral  Bartram,  ends  in 
these  terms :  To  be  by  him  applied  to  such  uses 
as  he  may  think  Jit.  , 

"  Simple  as  they  may  seem  to  you,  these  are 
very  remaj:kable  words.  In  the  first  place,  no 
practical  liiwyer  would  have  used  them  in 
drawing  your  husband's  Will.  In  the  second 
place,  they  are  utterly  useless  to  serve  any 
plain,  straightforward  purpose.     The  legacy 


ISO  NAME. 


225 


is  left  unconditionally  to  the  admiral ;  and  in 
the  same  breath  he  is  told  that  he  inay  do 
what  he  likes  with  it!  The  phrase  points 
clearly  to  one  of  two  conclusions :  It  has 
either  dropped  from  the  writer's  pen  in  pure 
ignorance,  or  it  has  been  carefully  set  where 
it  appears  to  servo  the  purpose  of  a  snare.  I 
am  firmly  persuaded  that  the  latter  explana- 
tion is  the  right  one:  The  words  are  expressly 
intended  to  mislead  some  persoiA-yourself,  in 
all  pi-obability  —  and  the  cunning  which  has 
put  them  to  that  use  is  a  cunning  which  (as 
constantly  happens  when  uninstructed  per- 
sons meddle  with  law)  has  overreached  itself. 
My  thirty  years  experience  reads  those  words 
in  a  sense  exactly  opposite  to  the  sense  which 
they  are  intended  to  convey.  I  say  that  Ad- 
miral Bartram  is  not  free  to  apply  his  les;acy 
to  such  purposes  as  he  may  think  fit — I  be- 
lieve ho  is  privately  controlled  by  a  supple- 
mentary dociument  in  the  shape  of  a  Secret 
Ti-ust.  " 

"  I  can  easily  explain  to  you  what  I  mean 
by  a  Secret  Trust-  It  is  usually  contained  in 
liie  form  of  a  letter  from  a  I'estator  to  his 
Kxecutors,  privately  informing  them  of  tes- 
tamentary intentions  on  his  part,  which  h^ 
has  not  thought  prop«r  openly  to  acknowledge 
in  his  Will.  1  leave  you  a  hundred  pounds  ; 
and  I  write  a  private  letter  enjoining  you,  on 
taking  the  legacy,  not  to  devote  it  to  your 
own  purposes,  but  to  give  it  to  some  third 
person,  whose  ijame  I  nave  my  own  reasons 
for  not  mentioning  itt  my  Will.  That  is  « 
Secret  Trust. 

"  If  I  am  right  in  my  own  persuasion  that 
such  fi  document  as  I  here  describe  is  at  this 
moment  in  Admiral  Bartram's  possession  —  a 
persuasion  based,  in  the  first  instance,  on  the 
extraordinary  words  that  I  have  quoted  to 
you  ;  and,  in  the  second  instance,  on  purely 
legal  coK«ider3tions  with  which  it  is  needless 
to  encumber  my  letter — if  I  am  right  in  this 
opinion,  the  discovery  of  the  Secret  Trust 
would  be,  in  all  probability,  a  most  important 
discovery  to  your  interests.  I  will  not  trouble 
you  with  technical  reasons,  nor  with  references 
to  my  experience  in  these  matters",  which  onh- 
a  professional  man  could  understand.  I  will 
merely  say  that  I  don't  give  up  your  cause 
as.  utterly  lost  until  the  conviction  now  im- 
pressed on  my  niin<l  is  proved  to  hi-  wrong. 

"  I  can  add  no  more  while  this  important 

question    still    remains    involved    in    doubt ; 

neither  can    I  suggest  any  means  of  solving 

that   doubt.     If  tlie    existence   of  the   Trust 

29 


was  proved,  and  if  the  nature  of  the  stipula- 
tions contained  in  it  was  made  known  to  me, 
I  could  then  say  positively  what  the  legal 
chances  were  of  your  being  able  to  set  up 
a  Case  on  the  strength  of  it ;  and  I  could 
also  tell  you  whether  I  should  or  should  not 
feel  justified  in  personally  undertaking  that 
Case  under  a  private  arrangement  with  your- 
self. 

''  As  things  are,  I  can  make  no  arrangement 
and  offer  no  advice.  I  can  only  put  you  con- 
fidentially in  possession  of  my  private  opinion, 
leaving  you  entirely  free  to  draw  your  own 
inferefices  from  it,  and  regretting  that  I  can 
not  write  more  confidently  and  mortf  defi- 
nitely than  I  have  written  here.  All  that 
I  could  conscientiously  say  on  this  very  diffi- 
cult and  very  delicate  subject  I  have  said. 
'•  Believe  me,  dear  Madam, 

"  Faithfully  yours, 
j  "John  Loscombk," 

I 

!   FR9M  MRS.  NOKL  VANSTONE  TO  MB.  LOSCOMBK. 

'  "  Dkau  vSir — I  have  read  your  letter  more 
I  than  once'  with  the  deepest  interest  and  at- 
;  tention,  and  the  oftcner  I  read  it  the  more 
i  firmly  I  believe  that  there  is  really  such  a 
'  Letter  as  you  mention  in  Admiral  Bartram's 
i  hands. 

"  It  is  my  interest  that  the  discovery  should 
be  made,  and  I  at  once  acknowledge  to  you 
that  I  am  determined  to  find  the  means  of 
I  secretly  and  certainly  making  it.  My  resolu- 
]  tion  rests  on  other  motives  than  the  motives 
[  ^vhich  you  might  naturally  suppose  would 
i  intluence  me.  I  only  tell  you  this  in  case 
i  you  feci  inclined  to  remonstrate.  There  is 
I  good  reason  for  what  I  say  when  I  assure  you' 
'  that  remonstrance  will  be  useless. 
i  "  I  ask  for  no  assistance  in  this  matter ;  I 
will  trouble  nobody  for. advice.  You  shall 
i  not  be  involved  in  any  rash  proceedings  on' 
I  my  part.  Whatever  danger  tnere  may  be,  I 
!  will  risk  it.  ^V'hatever  delays  may  happen,  I 
I  will  bear  them  patiently.  I  am  lonely  and 
'  friendless,  and  sorely  troubled  in  mind  ;  but 
j  I  am  strong  enough  to  win  my  way  through 
I  worse  trials  than  these.  My  spirits  will  nse 
.  again,  and  my  time  will  come.  If  that  Secret 
!  Trust  is  in  Admiral  Bartram's  possession, 
j  when  you  next  see  me  you  shall  see  me  with 
I  it  in  ray  own  hands. 

"  Yours  gratefully, 
'  "  Magdalen  Vajjstonb." 


f29 


SQIXAMS, 


THE  SIXTH  SCENE-ST.  JOHN^S  WOOD. 


CHAPTER  I, 

It  wanted  little  more  than  a  fortnight  to 
Christinas;  but  the  weather  showed  no  signs 
yet  of  the  frost  and  snow,  conventionally 
associated  with  the  coming  season.  The  ai- 
mosptiere  was  unnaturally  warm,  and  the  old 
year  was  dying  feebly  ijQ  sapping  rain  and 
enervating  mist. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  December  after- 
noon ^lagdaleii  sat  alone  in  the  lodging  which 
she  had  occupied  since  her  arrival  in  London. 
The  fire  burnt  sluggishly  in  the  narrow  little 
•  grate ;  the  view  of  the  wet  houses  and  soak- 
ing gardens  opposite  was  darkening  fast ;  and 
the  bell  of  the  suburban  mufHn-boy  tinkled  |n 
the  distance  drearily.  Sitting  close  over  the 
fire,  with  a  little  money  lying  loose  in  her 
lap,  Magdalen  absently  shifted  the  coins  to 
and  fro  on  the  smooth  surface  of  her  dress ; 
incessantly  altering  their  positions  toward 
each  other,  as  if  they  wfere  pieces  of  a  child's 
"puzzle"  which  she  was  trying  to  put  to- 
gether. The  dim  firelight  flaming  up  on  her 
faintly  from  time  tq  time  showed  changes 
which  would  have  told  their  own  tale  sadly  to 
friends  of  former  days.  Her  dress  had  be- 
come loose  through  the  wasting  of  her  figure ; 
but  she  had  not"  cared  to  alter  it.  The  old 
restlessness  in  her  movements,  the  old  mo- 
bility in  her  expression,  appeared  no  more. 
Her  face  passively  maintained  its  haggard 
composure,  its  changeless,  unnatural  calm. 
Mr.  Fendril  might  liave  softened  his  hard 
sentence  ou  her  if  he  had  seen  her  now  ;  and 
Mrs.  Lecount,  in  the  plenitude  of  her  triumph, 
might  have  pitied  her  fallen  enemj'  at  last. 

Hardly  four  months  had  passed  since  the 
wedding-day  at  Aldliorough;  and  the  penalty 
for  that  day  was  paid  already  —  paid  in  una- 
vailing remorse,  in  hopeless  isolation,  in  irre- 
mediable defeat!  Let  this  be  said  for  her; 
let  the  truth  which  has  been  told  of  the  fault 
be  told  of  the  expiation  as  well.  Let  it  be 
recorded  of  her  that  she  enjoyed  no  secret 
triumph  on  the  day  of  her  success.  The 
horror  of  herself  with  which  her  own  act  had 
inspired  her  had  risen  to  its  climax  when  the 
design  of  her  mafriage  was  achieved.  She 
had  never  suffered  in  secret  as  she  suffered 
•when  the  Combe-Raven  money  was  left  to  her 
in  her  husband's  will.  She  had  never  felt  the 
means  taketi  to  accomplish  her  end  so  un- 
utterably degrading  to  herself  as  she  felt 
them  on  the  day  when  the  end  was  reached. 
Out  of  that  feeling  had.  grown  the  remorse 
which'  had  hurried  her  to  seek  pardon  and 
consolation  in  her  sister's  love.  Never,  since 
it  had  first  entered  her  heart,  never  since  she 


had  first  felt  it  sacred  to  her  at  her  father's 
grave,  had  the  Purpose  ta  which  she  had 
avowed  herstlf  so  nearly  lost  its  hold  on  her 
as  at  this  time.  Never  might  Norah's  influ- 
ence have  achieved  such  good  as  on  the  day 
when  that  influence  was  lost  —  the  day  when 
the  fatal  words  were  overheard  at  Miss 
Garth's  —  the  day  when  the  fatal  letter  from 
Scotland  told  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  revenge. 

The  harm  was  done,  the  chance  was  gone. 
Time  and  Hope  alike  had  both  passed  her  by. 

Faintly  and  more  faintly  the  inner  voices 
now  pleaded  with  her  to  pause  on  th6  down- 
ward way.  The  discovery  which  had  poison- 
ed her  heart  with  its  first  distrust  of  her  sister; 
the  tidings  which  had  followed  it  of  her  hus- 
band's death ;  the  sting  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  tri- 
umph, felt  through  all,  had  done  their  work. 
The  remorse  which  had  embittered  her  mar- 
ried life  was  deadened  how  to  a  dull  despair.* 
It  was  too  late  to  make  the  atonedient  of  con- 
fession —  too  late  to  lay  bare  to  the  miserable 
husband  the  deeper  secrets  that  had  once 
lurked  in  the  heart  of  the  miserable  wife.  In- 
nocent of  all  thought  of  the  hideous  treachery 
which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  imputed  to  her,  she 
was  guilty  of  knowing  how  his  health  was  bro- 
ken when  she  married  him;  guilty  of  know- 
ing, when  he  left  her  the  Combe  -  Raven 
money,  that  the  accident  of  a  moment,  harm- 
less to  other  men,  might  place  his  life  in  jeop- 
ardy, and  eflfect  her  release.  His  death  had 
told  her  this,  had  told  her  plainly  what  she 
had  shrunk  in  his  lifetime  from  openly  ac- 
knowledging to  herself.  From  the  dull  tor- 
ment of  that  reproach;  .from  the  dreai^ 
wretchedness  of  doubting  everybody,  even  to 
Norah  herself;  from  the  bitter  sense  of  her 
defeated  -schemes;  from  the  blank  solitude  of 
her  friendless  life,  what  refuge  was  left?  But 
one  refuge  now.  She  turned  to  the  relentless 
Purpose  which  was  hurrying  her  to  her  ruin, 
and  cried  to  it  with  th«  daring  of  her  despair 
— Drive  me  on  ! 

For  days  and  days  together  she  had  bent 
her  mind  on  the  one  object  which  occupied  it 
since  she  had  received  the  lawyer's  letter. 
For  days  and  days  togefher  she  had  toiled  to 
meet  the  first  necessity  of  her  position  —  to 
find  a  means  of  discovering  the  Secret  Trust. 
There  was  no  hope  this  time  of  assistance  from 
Captain  Wragge.  Long  practice  had  made 
the  old  militia-man  an  adept  in  the  art  of  van- 
ishing. The  plough  of  the  moral  agricultu- 
rist left  no  furrows  —  not  a  trace  of  him  was 
to  be  found !  Mr.  Loscombe  was  too  cautious 
to  commit  himself  to  an  active  course  of  any 
kind ;    he  passirely  maintained  his  opinion, 


NO  NAME. 


W7 


and  left- the  rest  to  his  elieut  —  lie  desired  to 
know  nothing  until  tlic  Trust  was  placed  in 
his  hands.  Magdalen's  interests  were  now  in 
Magdalen's  own  sole  care.  Risk  or  no  risk, 
what  she  did  next  she  must  do  by  herself. 

The  prospect  had  not  daunted  her.  Alone 
she  had  calculated  the  chances  that  might  be 
tried.  Alone  she  was  now  detv.^i'mined  to 
make  the  attempt. 

"  The  time  has  come,"  she  said  to  herself,  as 
she  sat  over  the  fire.  "  I  must  sound  Louba 
first." 

She  collected  the  scattered  coins  in  her  lap, 
and  placed  thorn  in  a  little  heap  on  the  table — 
then  rose,  and  rang  the  bell.  The  landlady 
answered  it. 

"  Is  my  servar^J,  down  stairs  ? "  inquired 
Magdalen. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.     She  ii  having  her  tea." 

"When  she  has  done,  say  I  want  her  up 
here.  Wait  a  moment.  You  will  find  your 
money  on  the  table — the  money  I  owe  you  for 
last  week.  Can  you  find  it?  or  would  you 
like  to  have  a  candle  ?" 

"It 's  rather  dark,  ma'am." 

Magdalen  lit  a  candle.  "\Vhat  hotice  must 
I  give  you,"  she  asked,  as  she  put  the  candle 
on  the  table.  "  before  I  leave  ?" 

"A  w^eek  is  the  usual  notice,  ma'ftm.  I 
hope  you  have  no  objection  to  make  to  the 
house  V" 

"  None  whatever.  I  only  ask  the  question 
because  I  may  be  obliged  to  leave  these  lodg- 
ings rather  sooner  than  I  had  anticipated.  Is 
the  money  right  ?" 

"  Quite  right,  ma'am.  Here  ie  your  re* 
ceipt." 

"  Thank  yoa.  Don't  forget. to  aend  Louisa 
to  me  as  soon  as  she  has  done  her  tea."     - 

The  landlady  withdrew.  As  soon  as  she 
was  alone  ag.iin  Magdalen  extinguished  the 
candle,  and  drew  an  empty  chair  close  to  her 
own  chair  on  t-he  hearth.  This  done,  she  re- 
sumed her  former  place,  and  waited  until 
Louisa  appeared,     'fhere  was  doubt  in  her 


face  as  she  sat  looking  mechanically  into  the 
fire.  "A  poor  chance,"  she  thought  to  her- 
self; "  but,  poor  as  it  is,  a  chance  that  I  must 
try." 

In  ten  minutes  more  Louisa's  meek  knock 
was  softly  audible  outside.  She  was  surprised 
on  entering  the  room  to  find  no  other  light  in 
it  than  the  light  of  the  fire. 

"  Will  you  have  the  candles,  ma'am,"  she 
inquired,  respectfully. 

■'  We  will  have  the  candles  if  you  wish  for 
them  yourself,"  replied  Magdalen  ;  "  not  oth- 
erwise. I  have  something  to  say  to  vou. 
When  I  have  said  it  you  shall  docide  whether 
we  sit  together  in  the  dark  or  in  the  light." 

Louisa  waited  near  the  door,  and  listened 
to  those  strange  words  in  silent  astonishment. 

"  Come  hen-,"  said  Magdalen,  pointing  to 
the  empty  chair;  "come  here  and  sit  down." 

l/ouisa  advanced,  and  timidly  removed  the 
rhair  from  it«  po«ition  at  h«r  mittreM'i  tide. 


Magdalen  iiisiaully  dicw  it  back  again.  "No!" 
i  she  said.  "  Come  closer — come  close  b/me." 
I  After  a  moment's  nervous  hesitation  Louisa 
I  obeyed. 

"  I  ask  you  to  sit  near  me."  pursued  Magda- 
•  len,  "  because  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  on  ecjual 
I  terms.  Whatever  distinctions  there  might 
I  once  have  been  between  us  are  now  at  an 
end.  I  am  a  lonely  woman,  thrown  helpless 
'  on  my  own  resources,  without  rank  or  place 
j  in  the  world.  I  may  or  may  not  keep  you  as 
I  my  friend.  As  mistress  and  maid  the  con- 
nection between  us  must  come  to  an  end." 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  don't,  don't  say  that!"  plead* 
«d  Louisa,  faintly. 

Magdalen  sorrowfully  and  steadily  went  on.' 
"  When  you  first  came  to  me,"  she  resumed, 
"I  thought  I  should  not  like  you.  .  .1  have 
learned  to  like  you  —  I  have  learned  to  be 
grateful  to  you.  From  first  to  last  you  have 
been  faithful  and  good  to  me.  The  least  I 
can  do  in  return  is  not  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
your  future  prospects." 

"  Don't  send  me  away,  ma'am  !"  said  Loui- 
sa, imploringly.  "  If  you  can  only  help  me 
with  a  little  money  now  ami  then,  I  '11  wait 
for  my  wages — I  will  indeed." 

Magdalen  took  her  hand,  and  went  on  as 
sorrowfully  and  steadily  as  before. 

"My  future  lifj.  is  all  darkness,  all  uncer- 
.  tainty,"  she   said.      "  The   next  step   I   take 
!  may  lead  me  to  my  jirosperity  or  may  lead  me 
to  my  ruin.     Can  I  ask  you  to  share  such  a 
I  prospect  as  this?     If  your  future  was  as  un» 
i  certain  as  mine  is — if  you.  too,  w(>re  a  friend- 
less woman  thrown  on  the  world  —  my  con- 
science might  be  easy  in  letting  you  cast  your 
lot  with  mine.     I  might  accept  your  attach- 
ment, for  I  might  feel  I  was  not  wroncring  you. 
I  How  can  I  feel  this  in  your  case  ?     You  have 
a  future  to  look  to.      You  are  an  excellent 
j  servant;  you  can  get  another  place  —  a  far 
I  better  place  than  mine.    .  You  can  refer  to 
I  me ;  and  if  the  character  I  give  is  not  consid- 
ered sufficient,  you  can  refer  to  the  mistress 
you  served  before  me — "' 

At  the  instant  when  that  reference  to  the 

I  girl's  last  employer  escaped  Magdalen's  lips 

Louisa  snatched  her  hand  away,  and  started 

j  up  affrightedly  from  her  uliair.     There  was  a 

moments  silence.     Both    mistress   and  maid 

I  were  equally  taken  by  surpri.se. 

Magdalen  was  the  {\rft  to  recover  herself. 
"  Is  it  getting  too  dark  ?"  slie  asked  signifi- 
cantly.    "  Arc  you  goinj  to  light  the  candles 
i  after  all  ?"       . ' 

Louisa  drew  back  into  the  dimtnest  comer 
of  the  room. 

"  You  suspect  mo,  ma'am  !"  she  answered 
out  of  the  darkness  in  a  breathless  whisper. 
"Who  has  told  you?  How  did  you  find 
out — ?"  She,  stopped,  and  burst  into  tears. 
'  "  I  deserve  your  cuspiciou,"  she  said,  strug- 
gling to  compose  herself  "  I  can't  deny  it  to 
»/oii.  You  havo  treated  me  so  kin<My  ;  you. 
have  mad«  me  so  fond  of  you  1     Forgive  m9. 


228 


NO  NAME. 


Mrs.  Vanstone  —  I  am  a  wretch ;  I  have  de- 1 
ceived  you." 

"  Come  here  and  sit  down  by  me  awaiu,"  i 
said  Magdalen.  "  Come,  or  I  will  get  up  i 
myself  and  bring  you  back."  j 

Louisa  slowly  returned  to  her  place.  Dim  | 
as^the  firelight  was,  she  seemed,  to  fear  it.; 
She  held  her  handkerchief  over  her  face,  and  ' 
shrank  from  her  mistress  as  she  seated  herself ' 
again  in  the  chair.  j 

f  You  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  auv  one  I 
has  betrayed  you  ta  me,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  All  that  I  know  of  you  is  what  your  own  ! 
looks  and  ways  have  told  me.  You'have  had 
some  secret  trouble  weighing  on  your  mind 
ever  since  you  have  been  in  my  service.  I 
confes?  I  have  spoken  with  the  wish  to  find 
out  more  of  you  and  your  past  life  than  I 
have  found  out  yet  — not  because  I  am  curi- 
ous, but  because  I  have  my  secret  troubles 
too.  Are  you  an  unhappy  woman,  like  me  '? 
If  you  are,  I  will  take  you  into  my  confi- 
dence. If  you  have  nothing  to  tell  me  -i-  if 
you  choose  to  keep  your  secret — I  don't  blame 
you ;  I  only  say  let  us  part.  I  won't  ask  how 
you  have  deceived  me.  I  will  only  remember 
tha,t  you  have  been  an  honest,  and  faithful, 
and  competent  servant  while  I  have  employed 
you  ;  and  I  will  say  as  much  in  your  favor  to 
any  new  mistress  you  like  to  send  to  me." 

She  waited  for  the  reply.  For  a" moment, 
and  only  for  a  moment,  Louisa  hesitated. 
Tfie  girl's  nature  was  weak,  but  not  depraved. 
She  was  honestly  attached  to  her  mistress: 
•  and  she  spoke  with  a  courage  which  Magda- 
len had  not  expected  from  her. 

"  If  you  send  me  away,  ma'am,"  she  said, 
'♦  I  won't  take  my  character  from  you  till  I 
have  told  you  the  truth  ;  I  won't  return  your 
kindness  by  deceiving  you  a  second  time. 
Did  my  master  ever  tell  you  how  he  engaged 
me  ?" 

"No.'  I  nevef  asked  him,  and  he  never 
told  me." 

"  He  engaged  me,  ma'am,  with  a  written 
character — " 

"Yes?" 

"  The  character  was  a  false  one.'* 

Magdalen  drew  back  in  amazement.  The 
confession  she  heard  was  not  the  confession 
she  had  anticipated. 

"  Did  your  mistress  refuse  to  give  you  a 
character  ?"  she  asked.     "  Why '?" 

Louisa  dropped  on  her  kness,  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  mistress's  lap.  "  Don't  ask  me  !" 
she  said.  "  I  'm  a  miserable,  degraded  creat- 
ure ;  I  'm  not  fit  to  be  in  the  same  room  with 
you !" 

Ma,gdalen  bent  over  her,  j%nd  whispered  a 
question  in  her  ear.  Lonisa  whispered  back 
the  one  sad  word  of  reply. 

"Has  he  deserted  you ?"  asked  Magdalen,, 
after  waiting  a  moment,  and  tl  linking  first 

"No." 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?" 

♦•Dearly." 


The  remembrance  of  her  own  loveless,  mar- 
riage stung  Magdalen  to  the  quick. 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  kneel  to  me .'"  she 
cried,  passionately.  "  If  there  is  a  degraded 
woman  in  this  ro»m,  1  am  the  woman  —  not 
you  1" 

She  raised  the  girl  by  main  force  from  her 
knees,  and  put  her  back  in  the  chair.  They 
both  waited  a  little  in  silence.  Keeping  her 
hand  on  Louisa's  shoulder,  Magdalen  seated" 
herself  again,  and  looked  with  an  unuttera- 
ble bitterness  of  sorrow  into  the  dying  fire. 
"Oh,"  she  thought,  "what  happy  women 
there  are  in  the  world  !  Wives  who  love  their 
husbands !  Mothers  who  are  not  ashamed 
to  own  their  children !  Are  you  quieter  ?" 
she  asked,  geutly  addressing  Louisa  once  more. 
"  Can  you  answer  n^  if  I  ask  you  something 
else  ?     Where  is  the  child  V" 

"  The  child  is  out  at  nurse." 

"  Does  the  father  help  to  support  it  V" 

"  He  does  all  he  can,  ma'am." 

"  What  is  he  ?  Is  he  in  service  ?  Is  he  in 
a  trade?  " 

"  His  father  is  a  master<-arpenter — he  workw 
in  his  father's  yard." 

"  If  he  has  got  work,  why  ha.s  he  not  mar- 
ried you  ?" 

"  It 's  his  father's  fault,  ma'am — not  his.  His 
father  has  no  pity  on  us.  He  would  be  turned 
out  of  house  and  home  if  he  married  me." 

"  Can  he  get  no  work  elsewhere  ?" 

"  It  's  hard  to  get  good  work  in  London, 
ma'am.  There  are  so  many  in  London — they 
take  the  bread  oat  of  each  other's  mouths. 
If  we  had  only  had  the  money  to  emigrate, 
he  would  hare  married  me  long  since." 

"Would  he  marry  you  if  you  had  the  money 
now  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  he  would,  ma'am.  He  could 
get  plenty  of  work  in  Australia,  and  double 
and  treble  the  wages  he  gets  here.  He  is 
trying  hard,  and  I  am  trying  hard,  to  save  a 
little  toward  it.  I  put  by  all  J  ean  spare 
from  my  child.  But  it  is  so  little!  If  we 
live  for  years  to  come,  there  seems  no  hope 
for  us.  I  know  I  have  done  wrong  every 
way ;  I  know  I  don't  deserve  to  be  happy. 
But  how  c(3uld  I  let  my  child  suffer  ?  I  was 
obljfjed  to  go  to  service.  My  mistress  was 
hard  on  me,  and  my  health  broke  down  in 
trying  to  live  by  my  needle.  I  would  never 
have  deceivejd  anybody  by  a  false  character 
if  there  had  been  another  chance  for  me.  I 
was  alone  and  helpless,  ma'am ;  and  I  can 
only  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

"  Ask  better  women  than  1  am,"  said  Mag- 
dalen, sadly.  "  I  am  only  fit  to  feel  for  you  ; 
and  I  do  feel  for  you  with  all  my  heart.  In 
your  place  I  should  have  gone  into  service 
with  a  false  character  too.  Say  no  more  of 
the  past — you  don't  know  how  you  hurt  me  in 
speaking  of  it.  Talk  of  the  future.  I  think 
I  can  help  you,  and  do  you  no' harm.  I  tWnk 
you  can  help  me,  and  do  me  the  greatest  of  all 
services  in  return.    Wait,  and  you  shall  hear 


2vO  NAME. 


229 


strike  Louisa 
She  trembled 
Mfigdalen    re- 


what  I  mean.  Suppose  you  were  married, 
how  much  would  it  cost  for  you  and  your  hus- 
band to  emigrate  V" 

Louisa  mentioned  the  cost  of  a  steerage 
passage  to  Australia  for  a  man  and  his  wife. 
She  spoke  in  low,  hopeless  tones.  Moderate 
as  the  sum  wa.s,  it  looked  like  unattainable 
wealth  in  her  eyes. 

Magdalen  started  in  her  chair,  and  took  the 
girl's  hand  once  more. 

•'Louisa!"  she  said,  earnestly,  "if  1  gave 
you  the  money,  what  would  you. do  for  me  in 
return  V" 

The  proj)osal  seemed  to 
speechless  with  astonishment, 
violently,  and  said  nothing, 
peated  her  words. 

"Oh,  ma'am.* do  you  mean  it?"  said  the 
girl.     "  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?" 

**  Yes,"  replied  Magdalen,  "  I  really  mean 
it.     What  would  you  do  for  me  in  return?", 

"  Do  V"  repeated  Louisa.  "Oh,  what  is 
there  1  would  riot  do!"  She  tried  to  kiss  h(^r 
mistress's  hand,  but  ]\Iagdalen  would  not  per- 
mit it.  She  resolutely,  almost  roughly,  drew 
her  hand  away. 

"  I  am  laying  you  under  no  obligation,"  she 
said.  "  We  are  nerving  each  other  —  that  is 
all.     Sit  (piiet,  and  let  me  think." 

For  the  ne,xt  ten  niinutt^s  there  wns^tilence 
in  the  rpom.  At  ihe  eud  of  that  time  Mag- 
.dalen  took  out  her  watch  and  held  it  close  to 
the  grate.  There  was  just  lirelight  enough 
to  show  her  the  hour.  It  was  cfose  on  si.x 
o'clock. 

"  Are  you  composed  enoiigh  to  go  down 
stairs  and  deliver  a  message  V"  she  aske<l, 
rising  from  her  chair  as  she  spoke  to  Louisa 
again.  "  It  is  a  very  simple  message  —  it  is 
only  to  tell  the  >x)y  that  I  want  a  cab  as  soon 
as  he  can  get  me  one.  I  must  go  out  innn*'- 
diately.  You  shall  Know  why  later  in  the 
evening.  I  have  much  more  to  say  to  you, 
but  there  is  no  time  to  say  it  now.  When  1 
am  gone,  briit»r  your  work  up  here  and  wait 
for  my  return.  I  shall  be  back  before  bed- 
time." 

Without  another  word  oi  explanation  she 
hurriedly  lit  a  candle,  and  withdrew  into  the 
bedroom  to  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl. 


•  CHAPTER  H. 

Between  nine  and  ten  o'llock  the  same 
evening  Louisa,  waiting  an.xiously,  heard  the 
long-expected  knock  at  the  hou.*e-<ioor.  She 
ran  down  stairs  at  once  and  let  her  mistress  in. 

Magdalen's  face  was  flnshcd.  She  showed 
far  more  agitation  on  returning  to  the  houfee 
than  she  had  shown  on  leaving  it.  "  Keep 
youi;  place  at  the  table,"  she  said  to  Louisa, 
impatiently,  "  but  lay  aside  vour  work.  I 
want  you  to  attend  carefully  to  What  I  am 
going  to  say." 


Louisa  obeyed.  Magdalen  seated  herself 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  and  moved 
the  candles  so  as  to  obtain  a  clear  and  unin- 
terrupted view  of  her  servanfs  face. 

"  Have  you  noticed  a  respectable  elderly 
woman,'"  she  began  abruptly,  "who  has  been 
here  once  or  twice  in  the  last  fortnight  to  pay 
me  a  visit  V" 

"  Yes,  u'la'ani :  I  think  I  let  her  in  the  sec- 
ond time  she  came.  An  elderly  person  named 
Mrs.  Attwood  V" 

"  That  is  the  person  1  mean.  Mrs.  Att- 
wood Is  Mr.  Loscotfibe's  housekeeper;  not  the 
housekeeper'at  his  private  residence,  b\it  the 
housekeeper  at  Iws  oilices  in  Lincoln's  Inn.  I 
promised  to  go  and  drink  tea  with  her  some 
evening  this  week,  and  I  have  been  to-night. 
It  is  strange  of  me,  is  it  not,  to  be  on  these 
familiar  terms  with  a  woman  in  Mrs.  Att- 
wood's  situation  ?" 

Louisa  made  no  answer  in  words.  Her 
face  spoke  for  her :  she  could  hardly  avoid 
thinking  it  .strange. 

"I  had  ;i  motive  for  making  friends  with 
Mrs.  Attwood,''  Magdalen  went  on.  "  She  i« 
a  widow,  with  a  large  family  of  daughters. 
Jler  daughters  are  all  in  service.  One  of 
them  is  an  uuder-housemaid,  in  the  service  of 
Admiral  Bartram,  at  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh. 
I  found  that  out  from  Mrs.  Attwood's  master; 
and  as  soon  us  I  arrived  at  the  discovery  I 
privately  determined  to  make  Mrs.  .\ttwood'? 
acquaintance.     Stranger  still,  is  it  not  ■.-" 

Louisa  began  to  Iook  a  little  uneasy.  Her 
mistress's  manner  was  at  variance  with  her 
mistress's  words — it  was  plainly  suggestive  of 
something  .startling  to  come. 

"  What  attraction  Mrs.  Attwood  finds  in 
my  society,"  Magdalen  continued,  "1  can  not 
pfesume  to  say.  I  <an  only  tell  you  she  has 
seen  better  days;  she  is  an  educated  )»erson; 
and  she  may  like  my  sot;iety  on  that  account. 
At  any  rate  she  has  readily  met  my  advance* 
toward  her.  What  attraction  I  fmd  in  this 
good  woman  on  my  side  is  !<oon  told.  1  have 
a  great  curiosity — an  unac*eountal>le  curiosity, 
you  will  think  —  about  the  present  course  ot 
hpusehold  affairs  at  St.  Cru.x-in-the-Marjh. 
Mrs.  Attwood's  daughter  is  a  good  girl,  and 
constantly  writes  to  her  mother.  Her  mother 
is  proud  of  the  letters  and  proud  of  the  girl, 
and  is  ready  enough  to  talk  about  her  daugh- 
ter and  her  daughter's  place.  That  is  Mrs. 
Attwood's  attraction  to  me.  You  understand, 
so  far  ?" 

Yes;  Louisa  understood.  Magdalen  went 
on. 

"  Thank.H  to  Mrs.  Attwood  and  Mrs.  Att- 
wood's daughter,"  she  .iaid.»*'I  know  some 
curious  particulars  already  ol"  the  household 
at  St.  Cru.\.  Servants'  tongues  and  servants" 
letters —  .r-<  I  need  not  tell  i/ou  —  are  oflener 
occupied  with  their  masters  and  mistresses 
than  their  masters  and  mistresses  suppose. 
The  only  mistress  at  St.  Crux  is  the  house- 
keeper.     But  there  is  a  raast«r  —  Admiral 


•so 


wo  HAMK. 


Bartram.     He  appears  to  be  a  strange  old  | 
man,  whose  whims  and  fancies  amuse  his  ser-  j 
vants  as  -Well  as  his  friends.     One  of  his  fan- 
vies  (the  only  one  we  need  trouble  ourselves  i 
to  notice)  i«,  that  he  had  men  enough  about  I 
him  when  he  was  living  at  sea,  and  that  now  ! 
lie  is  living  on  shore  he'  will  be  waited  on  by 
women-servants  alone.     The  one  man  in  the 
house  is  an  old  sailor,  who  has  been  all  his  life 
with  his  master— he  is  a  kind  of  pensioner  at 
St.  Crux,  and  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with 
the  housework.     The  other  servants  indoors 
pre  all  women;  and  inste^^d  of  a  footman  to 
wait  on  him  at  dinner  the  admiral  has  a  par- 
lor-maid.    The  parlor-maid  now  at  St.  Crux 
is  engaged  to  be  married,  and  as  soon  as  her 
master  can  suit  hin»self  she  is  going  away. 
These  discoveries  I  made   some  days  since. 
But  when  I  saw  Mrs.  Attwood  to-night,  she 
uad  received  another  letter  from  her  daughter 
in  the  interval,  and  that  letter  has  helped  me 
to  find  out  something  more.    The  housekeeper 
lo  at  her  wit's  end  to  find  a  new  servant.  Her  ' 
master  insists  on  youth  and  good  looks  —  he  I 
leaves  everything  else  to  his  housekeeper  ^ — 
but  he  will  have  that.     All  the  inquiries  made  ; 
ia  the  neighborhood  have  failed  to  produce! 
;he  sort  of  parlor  -  maid  whom  the  admiral! 
wants.     If  nothing  can  be  <lone  in  the  next ; 
fortnight  or  three  weeks  th^  housekeeper  will 
advertise  in  the  Times,  and  will  come  to  Lon- 
don herself  to  see  the  applicants,  and  to  make  ; 
jtrict  personal  inquiry  into  their  characters."  ; 

Louisa  looked  at  hor  mistress  more  atten- 
tively than  ever.  The  expression  of  perplexity 
left  her  face,  and  a  shade  of  disappointment 
appeared  there  in  its  stead.  i 

"  Bear  iq  mind  what  I  have  said,"  pursued  j 
Magdalen.;  "  and  wait  a  minute  more  while  I 
ask  you  some  questions.     Don't  think  you  un-  ! 
derstand  me  yet  —  I  can  assure  you  you  don't  | 
understand  me.     Have  you  always  lived  in 
service  as  lady's-maid  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Have  you  ever  lived  as  parlor-maid  ?" 

"Only  in  one  place,  ma'am  —  and  not  for 
long  there." 

'*  I  suppose  you  lived  long  enough  to  learn 
your  duties  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  What  were  your  duties  besides  waiting  at 
tabl^  ?" 

"  I  had  to  show  visitors  in." 

"  Yes ;  and  what  else  ?" 

"I  had  the  plate  and  the  glass  to  look  after, 
and  the  table-linen  wa^  all  .under  iny  care.  I 
had  to  answer  all  the  bells  except  in  the  bed- 
rooms. There  were  other  little  odds  and  ends 
sometimes  to  do' — " 

"But  your  regular  duties  were  the  duties 
you  have  just  mentioned  '.■"' 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  How  long  ago  is  it  since  you  lived  in  ser- 
vice as  parlor-maid '?" 

"  A  little  better  than  two  years,  ma'am." 

"I  suppose  you  have  not  forgotten  how  to 


wait  at  table,  and  clean  plate,  and  the  rest 
it,  in  that  time  ?" 

At  this  question  Louisa's  attention,  whic 
had  been  wandering  more  aiid  more  during' 
the  progress  of  Magdalen's  inquiries,  wander 
ed  away  altogether.  Her  gathering  anxieti 
got  the  better  of  her  discretion,  and  even  o1 
her  timidity.  Instead  of  answering  her  mis- 
tress, she  suddenly  and  confusedly  ventured 
on  a  question  of  her  own. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  she  «aid.  "Did 
you  mean  me  to  offer  for  the  parlor  -  maid's  i 
place  at  St.  Crux?"  ' 

"You?"  replied  Magdalen.  "Certainly 
not !  Have  you  forgotten  what  I  said  to  you 
in  this  room  before  I  went  out  ?  I  mean  you 
to  be  married,  and  to  go  to  Australia  with  your 
husband  and  yOur  child.  You' have  not  waited 
as  I  told  you,  to  hear  me  explain  myself.  You 
licive  drawn  your  conclu^ons,  and  you  have 
drawn  them  wrpng.  I  asked  a  question  just 
now  which  you  have  not  answered — I  asked  if 
you  had  forgotten  your  parlor-maid's  duties?" 

"  Oil,  no,  ma'am !"  Louisa  had  replied  rather 
unwillingly,  thus  far.  She  answered  readily 
and  confidently  now. 

"  Could  you  teach  the  duties  to  another 
servant  ?"  asked  Magdalen. 

"  Yes,  ma'am — easily,  if  she  was  quick  and 
attentive." 
.  "  Could  you  teach  the  duties  to  Me  ?" 

Louisa  started  and  changed  color.  "  You, 
ma'am !"  she  exclaimed,  half  in  incredulity, 
half  in  alarm. 

"  Yes,"  said  Magdalen.  "  Could  you  q'tialify 
me  to  take  the  parlor  -  maid's  place  at  St. 
Crux?" 

Plain  as  those  words  were,  the  bewilderment 
which  they  produced  in  Louisa's  mind  seemed 
to  render  her  incapable  of  comprehending  her 
mistress's  proposal.  "  You,  ma'am !"  she  re- 
peated, vacantly. 

"  I  shall  perhaps  help  you  to  understand 
this  extraordinary  project  of  mine,"  said  Mag- 
dalen, "if  I  tell  you  plainly  what  the  object 
of  it  is?  Do  you  remember  what  1  said  to  you 
j  about  Mr.  Vanstone's  will  when  you  came 
here  from  Scotland  to  join  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  You  told  me  you  had  .been 
left  out  of  the  will  altogether.  I  'm  sure  my 
fellow-: servant  would  never  have  been  one  of 
the  witnesses  if  she  had  known — " 

"  Never  mind  that  now.    I  don't  blame  your 
fellow-servant  —  I' blame  nobody  but  Mrs.  Le- 
count.     Let  me  go  on  with  what  I  was  saying. 
It  is  not  at  all  certain  that  Mrs.  Lecount  can 
I  do  me  the  mischief  which  Mrs.  Lecount  intend- 
I  ed.     There  is  a  chance  that  my  lawyer,  Mr. 
I  Loscombe,  may  be  able  to  gain  me  what  is 
fairly  my  due,  in  spite  of  the  will.  The  chance 
turns  on  my  discovering  a  letter  which  Mr. 
I  Loscombe  believes,  and  which  I  believe,  to  be 
:  kept  privately  in  Admiral  Bartram's  posses- 
sion.    I  have  not  the  least  hope  of  getting  at 
I  that  letter  if  I  make  the  attempt  in  my  own 
I  person.    Mrs.  Lecount  has  poisoned  the  admi- 


y>0  Jf  AJStB. 


Mi 


T&Vs  mind  against  me,  And  Mr.  Vanstone  has 
given  him  a  secret  to  keep  from  me.  If  I 
wrote  to  him,  he  would  not  answer  mj'  letter. 
If  I  went  to  his  house,  the  door  would  be  closed 
in  my  face.  I  must  find  my  way  into  St.  Crux 
as  a  stranger — I  must  be  in  a  position  to  look 
about  the  house  unsuspected — 1  must  be  there 
with  plenty  of  time  on  my  hands.  All  the 
circumstances  are  in  my  favor  if  I  am  received 
into  the  houst;  as  a  servant ;  and  as  a  servant 
I  mean  to  go." 

"  But  you  are  a  lady,  ma'am,"  objected 
Louisa,  in  the  greatest  perplexity.  "  The  ser- 
vants at  St.  Crux  would  find  you  out." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  of  their  fiiuling  me 
out,"  said  Miigdalen.  "  I  know  how  to  dis- 
guise myself  in  other  people's  characters  more 
cleverly  than  you  suppose.  Lea(Ve  me  to  face 
the  chances  of  discovery — that  i»  my  risk.  Let 
us  taHw  of  nothing  now  but  what  concerns  you. 
Don't  decide  yet  whether  you  will,  or  will  not, 
give  me  the  help  I  want.  Wait  and  hear  first 
what  the  help  is.  You  are  quick  and  clever 
at  your  needle.  Can  you  make  me  the  sort  of 
gown  which  it  is  proper  for  a  servant  to  wear? 
and  can  you  alter  one'of  my  best  silk  dresses, 
80  as  to  make  it  fit  yourself,  in  a  week's  time?" 

"  I  think  I  could  get  them  done  in  a  week, 
mA*am.     But  why  am  I  to  wear — ?" 

"  W'^ait  a  little,  and  you  will  see.  I  shall 
gfve  the  landlady  her  week's  notice  to-mor- 
row. In  the  interval,  while  you  are  making 
ths  dresses,  I  can  be  learning  the  parlor- 
maid's duties.  When  the  house-servant  here 
has  bfought  up  the  dinner,  and  when  you  and 
I  are  alone  in  the  room  —  instead  of  your 
waiting  on  me,  as  usual,  I  will  wait  on  you. 
(I  am  quite  serious;  don't  interrupt  me!) 
Whatever' I  can  learn  besides,  without  hinder- 
ing you,  I  will  practice  carefully  at  every 
opportunity.  Wh6n  the  week  is  over,  and 
th»^  dresses  are  done,  we  will  leave  this  place 
and  go  into  other  lodgings  —  you  as  the  mis- 
tress, and  I  as  the  maid." 

"  I  should  be  found  out,  ma'am,"  interposed 
Louisa,  trembling  at  the  prospect  before  her. 
"  I  am  not  a  lady." 

"  And  I  am,"  said  Magdalen,  bitterly. 
"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  a  lady  is  ?  A  lady  ig 
A  woman  who  wears  a  silk  gown,  and  has  a 
»enseof  her  own  importance.  I  shall  put  ths 
gown  on  vour  back,  and  the  sense  in  your 
head.  You  .«peak  good  English  —  you  are 
naturally  quiet  and  self-restrained  —  if  you 
can  only  conquer  your  timidity,  I  have  not  the 
least  fear  of  you.  There  will  be  time  enough 
in  the  new  iVlging  for  )'Ou  to  practice  your 
character,  and  for  tne  to  practico  mine. 
There  will  be  time  enough  to  make  eomc 
more  dresses — another  gown  for  me, and  )our 
wedding-dress  (which  I  mean  to  give  you)  for 
yourself.  I  sh<<<l  have  the  newipaper  sent 
every  day.  •  When  the  advertisement  appears 
I  shall  answer  it — in  any  name  I  can  take,  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment;  in  your  name,  if  you 
like  to  lend  it  to  me ;  and  when  the  houge- 


I  keeper  asks  me  for  my  character  I  shall  refer 

j  her  to  you.     She  will  see  you  in  Jhe  position 

I  of  mistress,  and  me  in  the  position  of  maid  — 

1  no   suspicion   can   possibly  enter    her    mind 

unless  you   put  it  there.     If  you  or\\y  have 

the  courage  to  follow  my  instructions,   and 

to  say  what  I  shall  fell  you  to  say,  the  in- 

'  terview  will  be  over  in  ten  minutes." 

"  You  frighten  me,  ma'am,"  said  LouisH, 
•  still  trembling.  "  You  take  my  breath  away 
|.with  surprise.  Courage  !  Where  shall  I  find 
I  courage  ?" 

;  "  Where  I  keep  it  for  you,"  said  Magdalen — 
"  in  the  passage-money  to  Australia.  Look  nt 
i  the  new  prospect  which  gives  yoi*  a  husband 
i  and  restores  you  to  your  child,  and  you  will 
I  find  your  courage  there." 
I  Louisa's  sad  face  brightened  ;  Louisa's  faint 
heart  beat  quick.  A  spaiHt  of  her  mistress'?; 
I  spirit  flew, up  into- her  eyes  as  she  thought 
]  of  the  golden  future.     , 

1  "  If  you  accept  ui}'  proposal,"  pursued  Mag- 
I  dalen,  "you  can  be  asked  in  church  at  once, 
if  you  like.  I  promise  you  the  money  on  the 
day  when  the  advertisement  appears  in  the 
newspaper.  The  risk  of  the  housekeeper's 
rejecting  me  is  my  risk — n«t  yours.  My  good 
looks  are  sadly  gone  oflT,  I  know.  But  I  think 
I  can  still  hold  my  place  against  the  other 
servants —  I  think  I  can  still  look  the  parlor- 
maid whom  Admiral  Bartram  wants.  There 
is  nothing  for  you  to  fear  in  this  matter ;  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  it  if  there  had 
been.  The  only  dait^er  is  the  danger  of  my 
being  discovered  at  St.  Crux,  and  that  fall" 
entirely  on  me.  By  the  time  I  am  in  the  ad- 
miral's house  you  will  be  married,  and  the 
ship  will  be  taking  you  to  your  new  life." 

Louisa's  face,  now  brightening  with  hope, 
now  clouding  again  with  fear,  showed  plain 
signs  of  th«  struy<;le  which  it  cost  her  to  de- 
cide. She  tried  to  gain  time  ;  she  attempted 
confusedly  to  speak  a  few  words  of  gratitude  ; 
but  her  mistress  silenced  her. 

"  You  owe  mc  no  thanks,"  said  Mag(lalei\. 
"I  tell  you  again  we  are  only  helping  each 
other.  I  have  very  little  money,  but  it  is 
enowgh  for  your  purpose,  and  I  give  it  you 
freely.  I  have  led  a  wretched  life  ;  I  have 
made  others  wretched  about  me.  I  can't  even 
make  i/ou  happy,  except  by  tempting  you  to  a 
new  deceit.  There  !  there  1  it 's  not  your 
fault.  AVorse  women  than  you  are  will  help 
me,  if  you  refuse.  Decide  as  you  Hke,  but 
don't  be  afraid  of  taking  the-,  money.  If  I 
succeed  I  shall  not  want  it.     If  I  fail — " 

She  stopped,  rose  abruptly  from  her  chair, 
and  hid  her  face  from  Louisa  by  walking  away 
to  the  fireplace. 

"  If  I  fail,"  she  resumed,  warming  her  foot 
carelessly  at  the  fender,  *'  all  the  money  in  the 
world  will  be  of  no  use  to  me.  Never  mind 
•why — never  mind  Me — think  of  yQurself  I 
won't  take  advantage  of  the  confession  you 
have  made  to  me ;  I  won't  influence  you 
against  your  will.      Do  as  you  yourself  think 


iB'i 


NO  NAMK. 


best.  But  remember  one  thing — my  mind  is 
made  up :  nothing  you  can  say  or  do  will 
change  it." 

liei-  sudden  removal  from  the  table^  the 
altered  tones  of  her  voice  as  she  spoke  the 
last  words,  appeared  to  renew  Louisa's  hesita- 
tion. She  clasped  her  hands  together  in  her 
lap,  and  wrung  them  hard.  "  Tliis  has  come 
on  me  very  suddenly,  ma'am,"  said  the  girl. 
''I  am  sorely  tempted  to  say  Yes:  and  yet 
I  'm  almost  afraid — " 

v"  Take  the  night  to  cbnsider  it,"  interposed 
Magdalen,  keeping  her  face  persistently 
turned  toward  the  fire,  "  and  tell  me  what 
you  have  decided  to  do  when  you  come  into 
my  room  to-morrow  morning.  I  shall  want 
no  help  to-night ;  I  can  undress  myself.  Tou 
are  not  so  strong  as  I  am ;  you  are  tired,  I 
ilare  say.  Don't  sit?  up  on  my  account.  Good 
night,  Louisa,  and  pleasant  dreams  !" 

Her  voice   sank  lowt>r   and   lower  as  she 


j  spoke  those  kind  words.  She  sighed  heavily,^ 
]  and,  leaning  her  arm  on  the  mantle-piece, 
i  laid  her  head  on  it  with  a  reckless  weariness 
I  miserable  to  see.  Louisa  had  not  left  the 
j  room,  as  she  supposed ;  Louisa  came  softly  to 
j  her  side  and  kissed  her  hand.  Magdalen 
I  started ;  but  she  made  no  attempt  this  time  to 
j  draw  her  hand  away.  The  sense  of  her  own 
I  horrible  isolation  subdued  her  at  the  touch  of 
I  the  servant's  lips.  Her  proud  heart  melted ; 
I  her  eyes  filled  with  bu'rnipg  tears.  "  Don't 
i  distress  me !"  she  said,  faintly.  "  The  time 
I  for  kindness  has  gone  by  ;  it  only  overpowers 
i  me  now.     Good-night!" 

The  morning  came ;  and  the  affirmative 
i  answer  which  Magdalen  had  anticipated  was 
I  the  answer  given.  On  that  day  the  landlady 
I  received  her  week's  notice  to  quit,  and  Louisa's 
I  needle  flew  fast  through  the  stitches  of  the 
I  parlor-raaid'.s  dress- 


TKJ?  KND  OF  THE  SIXTH  SCBNK. 


BETWEEN    THE    SCENES. 


FROM    MIHR    GAKTH    TOMK.    PKNDRn.. 

■'  WestmoreiaKb  HoinR.  Jan.  ^  184S. 

"  Deak  Mr.  Pkndril  —  I  write,  as  you 
kindly  requested,  to  report  how  Norah  is 
going  on,  and  to  tell  you  what  changes  I  see 
tb>'  the  better  in  the  state  of  her  mind,  on  the 
subject  of  her' sister. 

"  I  can  not  Say  that  she  is  becoming  resigned 
U)  Magdalen'a  continued  silence  —  T  know  her 
faithful  nature  too  well  to  say  it.  Lean  only 
tell  you  that  she  is  beginning  to  find  relief 
from  the  heavy  pressure  of  sorrow  and  sus- 
pense in  new  thoughts  and  new  hopes.  I 
doubt  if  she  has  yet  realized  this  in  her  owu 
mind ;  but  1  see  the  result,  although  she  is  not 
conscious  of  it  herself.  I  see  her  heart  open- 
ing to  the  consolation  of  another  interest  and 
another  love.  She  has  not  said  a  word  to  me 
on  the  subject,  nor  have  I  said  a  word  to  her. 
But  as  certainly  as  I  know  that  Mr.  George 
Bartram's  visitx  have  lately  grown  more  and 
more  frequent  to  the  family  at  Portland  Place, 
so  certainly  1  can  assure  you  that  Norah  is 
finding  a  relief  under  her  suspense  which  is 
not  of  my  bringing,  and  a  hope  in  the  future 
which  I  have  not  taught  her  to  feel. 

"  It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  I  tell  you 
this  in  the  strictest  confidence.  God  knows 
whether  the  happy  prospect  which  seems  to 
rae  to  be  just  dawning  will  grow  brighter  or 
not  as  time  goes  on.  The  oftener  I  see  Mr. 
George  Bartram  —  and  he  has  called  on  me 
more  than  once  —  the  stronger  my  liking  for 
him  grows.     To  my  poor  judgment  he  seems 


to  be  a  gentleman  in  the  highest  and  truest 
sense  of  the  word.  If  I  could  live  to  see 
Norah  his  wife,  I  should  almost  feel  that  I 
had  lived  long  enough.  But  who  can  discern 
the  future  ?  We  have  suflered'  so  much  that 
I  am  afraid  to  hope. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  Magdalen  ? 
1  don't  know  why  or  how  it,  is,  but  since  I 
have  known  of  her  husband's  death  my  old 
tenderness  for  her  seems  to  "cling  to  me  more 
obstinately  than  ever. 

"  Always  yours  truly, 

"  Harriet  Garth." 

a 

KSO«    «R.    PR^DRIL    TO    MISS    CARTII. 

-?KARi.E  Street,  Jan.  4.  1848. 

"Dkar  Miss  Garth — Of  Mrs.  Noel  Van- 
stone  herself  I  have  heard  nftthing.  But  I 
have  learned  .since  I  saw  you  that  the  report 
of  the  position  in  which  she  is  left  by  the 
death  of  her  husband  may  be  depended  on 
as  the  truth.  No  legacy  of  any  kind  is  be- 
queathed to  her.  Her  name  is  not  once  men- 
tioned in  her  husband's  will. 

'•  Knowing  what  we  know,  it  is  not  to  be 
concealed  that  this  circumstance  threatens  us- 
with  more  embarrassment,  and  perhaps  with 
more  distress.  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  is  not  the  ' 
woman  to  submit  without  a  desperate  resist- 
ance to  the  total  overthrow  of  ^11  her  schemes 
and  all  her  hopes.  The  mere  fact  that  noth  ■ 
ing  whatever  has  been  heard  of  her  since  her 
husband's  death  is  suggestive  to  my  mind  of 
serious  mischief  to  come.     In  her  situation 


•NO  KAME. 


23  S 


and  with  her  temper,  the  quieter  she  is  now 
the  more  inveterately  I,  for  one,  clistrus,t  her 
in  the  future.  It  is  impossible  to  say  to  what 
•violent  measures  her  present  extremity  may 
not  drive  her.  It  is  impossible  to  feel  sure 
that  she  may  not  be  the  cause  of  some  public 
scandal  this  time  which  may  aifect  her  inno- 
cent sister  ^s  well  as  herself 

"  I  know  you  will  not  misinterpret  the  mo- 
tive which  has  led  me  to  write  these  lines ;  I 
know  you  will  not  think  that  I  am  inconsider- 
ate enough  to  cause  you  unnecessary  alarm. 
My  sincere  anxiety  to  see  that  happy  pros- 
pect realized,  to  which  your  letter  a^udes, 
I:r.s  caused  me  to  write  far  less  reservedly 
than  I  might  otherwise  have  written.  I 
strongly  urge  you  to  use  your  influence,  on 
every  occasion  -when  you  can  fairly  exert  it, 
to  strengthen  that  growing  attachment,  and 
to  place  it  beyond  the  reach  of  any  coming 
disasters,  while  you  have  the  opportunity  of 
doing  so.  When  I  tell  you  that  the  fortune 
of  which  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  has  been  de- 
prived is  entirely  bequeathed  to  Admiral  Bar- 
tram  —  and  when  I  add  that  Mr.  George 
Bartram  is  generally  understood  to  be  his 
uncle's  heir  —  you  will,  I  think,  acknowledge 
that  I  am  not  warning  you  without  a  cause. 
"  Yours  most  truly, 

"  William  Penmiil." 

III. 

FROM    ADMIRAL     BARTRAM    TO    MRS.    DRAKK 

(housekeeper  at  ST.  crux). 

"  St.  Cnrx.  Jan.  10, 1848. 

"  Mrs.  Drake  —  I  have  received  your  let- 
ter fromlLondon,  stating  that  you  have  found 
me  a  new  parlor-maid  at  last,  and  that  the 
girl  is  ready  to  return  with  you  to  St.  Crux, 
when  your  other  errands  in  town  allo\ryou 
to  come  back. 

"  This  arrangement  must  be  altered  imme- 
diatcl}',  for  a  reason  which  I  am  heartily  sorry 
to  have  to  write. 

"  The  illness  of  my  niece,  Mrs.  Girdlestone 
—  which  appeared  to  be  so  slight  as  to  alarm 


none  of  us,  doctors  included — has  ended  fatal- 
ly. I  received  this  morning  the  shocking  news 
of  her  death.  Her  husband  is  said  to  be  quite 
frantic  with  grief.  Mr.  George  has  already 
gone  to  his  brother-in-law's  to  superintend  the 
last  melancholy  duties,  and  I  must  follow  him 
before  the  funeral  takes  place.  We  propose 
to  take  Mr.  Girdlestone  away  afterward,  and 
to  try  the  effect  on  him  of  change  of  place  and 
new  scenes.  Under  these  sad  circumstances  I 
may  be  absent  from  St.  Crux  a  month  or  six 
Aveeks  at  least  —  the  house  will  be  shut  up  — 
and  the  new  servant  will  not  be  wanted  until 
my  return. 

"  You  will  thereforer  tell  the  girl,  on  receiv- 
ing this  letter,  tliat  a  death  in  the  family  has 
caused  a  temporary  change  in  our  arrange- 
ments. If  she  is  wilHng  to  wait  you  may 
safely  engage  her  to  come  here  in  six  weeks 
time  —  I  shall  be  back  then,  if  Mr.  George  is 
not.  If  she  refuses,  pay  her  what  compensa- 
tion is  right,  and  so  have  done  with  her. 
"  Yours, 

"Arthur  Bartram." 

IV. 

FROM  MRS.  DRAKE  TO  ADMIRAL  BARTRAM. 

"Jan.  11. 

"Honored  Sir  —  I  hope  to  get  my  er- 
rands done,  and  to  return  to  St.  Crux  to- 
morrow, but  write  to  save  you  anxiety  in  case 
of  delay.  "^ 

"  The  young  woman  whom  I  have  engaged 
(Louisa  by  name)  is  willing  to  wait  your  time ; 
and  her  present  mistress,  taking  an  interest 
in  her  welfare,  will  provide  for  her  during 
the  interval.  She  understands  that  she  is. to 
enter  on  her  new  service  in  six  weeks  from 
the  present  date  —  namely,  on  the  25th  of 
February  next. 

"  Begging  you  will  accept  my  respectful 
sympathy  under  the  sad  bereavement  which 
has  befallen  the  family,  ^ 

"  I  remain,  honored  sir, 

"  Your  humble  servant, 

"  Sophia  Drake." 


THE  SEVENTH   SCENE -ST.  CRUX-IN-THE-MARSH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  This  is  where  you  are  to  sleep.  Put  your- 
«elf  tidy,  and  then  come  down  again  to  my 
room.  The  admiral  has  returned,  and  you 
will  have  to  begin  by  waiting  on  him  at  din- 
ner to-day."  •    •« 

With  those  words  Mrs.  Drake,  the  house- 
keeper, closed  the  door ;  and  the  new  parlor- 
maid was  left  alone  in  her  bedchamber  at  St. 
Crux. 

That  day  was  the  eventful  25th  of  Febru- 
SO 


ary.  In  barely  four  months  from  the  time 
when  Mrs.  Lecount  had  placed  her  master's 
private  Instructions  in  his  Executor's  hands, 
the  one  combination  of  circumstances  against 
which  it  had  been  her  first  and  foremost  ob- 
ject to  provide  was  exactly  the  combination 
which  had  now  taken  place.  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  widow  and  Admiral  Bartram's  Secret 
Trust  were  together  in  the  same  house. 

Thus  far  events  had  declared  themselves, 
without  an  exception,  in  Magdalen's  favor. 
Thus  far  the  path  which  hswl  led  her  to  St. 


234 


NO  NAME., 


Crux  had  been  a  path  without  an  obstacle. 
Louisa — whose  name  she  had  now  laken — had 
sailed  three  days  since  for  Australia  with  her 
husband  and  her  child  :  she  was  the  only  liv- 
inf^  creature  whom  Magdalen  had  trusted  with 
her  secret,  and  she  was  by  this  time  out  of 
sight  of  the  English  land.  The  girl  had  been 
careful,  reliable,  and  faithfully  devoted  to 
her  mistress's  interests  to  the  last.  She  had 
passed  the  ordeal  of  her  interview  with  the 
housekeeper,  and  had  forgotten  none  of  the 
instructions  by  which  she  "had  been  prepared 
to  meet  it.  She  had  herself  proposed  to  turn 
the  six  weeks  delay,  caused  by  the  death  in 
the  admiral's  family,  to  good  account  by  con- 
tinuing the  all  -  important  practice  of  those 
domestic  lessons,  on  the  perfect  acquirement  of 
which  her  mistress's  daring  stratagem  depend- 
ed for  its  success.  Thanks  to  the  time  thus 
gained,  when  Louisa's  marriage  was  over  and 
the  day  of  parting  had  come,  Magdalen  had 
learned  and  mastered,  in  the  nicest  detail, 
everything  that  her  former  servant  could 
teach  her.  On  the  day  when  she  passed  the 
doors  of  St.  Crux  she  entered  on  her  desper- 
ate venture,  strong  in  the  ready  presence  of 
mind  under  emergencies  which  her  later  life 
had  taught  her  —  stronger  still  in  the  trained 
capacity  that  she  possessed  for  the  assumption 
of  a  character  not  her  own  —  strongest  of  all 
in  her  two  months  daily  familiarity  with  the 
practical  duties  of  the  position  which  she  had 
•undertaken  to  fill. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Drake's  departure  had  left 
her  alone  she  unpacked  her  box  and  dressed 
herself  for  the  evening. 

She  put  on  a  lavender-colored  stuff  gown — 
half-mourning  for  Mrs.  Girdlestone ;  ordered 
for  all  the  servants  under  the  admiral's  in- 
structions—  a  white  muslin  apron,  aitd  a  neat 
white  cap  and  collar,  with  ribbons  to  match 
the  gown.  In  this  servant's  costume  —  in  the 
plain  gown  fastening  high  round  her  neck,  in 
the  neat  little  white  cap  at  the  back  of  her 
head  —  in  this  simple  dress,  to  the  eyes  of  all 
men,  not  linen-drapers,  at  once  the  most  mod- 
est and  the  most  alluring  that  a  woman  can 
wear,  the  sad  changes  which  mental  suffering 
had  wrought  in  her  beauty  almost  disappeared 
from  view.  In  the  evening  costume  of  a  lady, 
with  her  bosom  uncovered,  with  her  figure 
armed,  rather  than  dressed,  in  unpliable  silk — 
the  admiral  might  have  passed  her  by  without 
notice  in  hie  own  drawing-room.  In  the  even- 
ing costume  of  a  servant,  no  admirer  of  beauty 
could  have  looked  at  her  once  and  not  have 
turned  again  to  look  at  her  tor  the  second  time. 

Descending  the  stairs,  on  her  way  to  the 
housekeeper's  room,  she  passed  by  the  entran- 
ces to  two  long  stone  corridors,  with  rows  of 
doors  opening  on  them ;  one  corridor  situated 
on  the  second,  and  one  on  the  first  floor  of  the 
house.  "  Many  rooms  !"  she  thought,  as  she 
looked  at  the  doors.  "  Weary  work,  search- 
ing here  for  what  I  have  to  find." 


On  reaching  the  ground-floor  she  was  met 
by  a  weather-beaten  old  man,  who  stopped 
and  stared  at  her  with  an  appearance  of  great 
interest.  He  was  the  same  old  man  whom 
Captain  Wragge  had  seen  in  the  back-yard  at 
St.  Crux  at  work  on  the  model  of  a  ship.  |  All 
round  the  neighborhood  he  was  known,  far 
and  wide,  as  "the  admiral's  coxswain."  His 
name  was  Mazey.  Sixty  years  had  written 
their  story  of  hard  work  at  sea  ajid  hard 
drinking  on  shore  on  the  veteran's  grim  and 
wrinkled  face.  Sixty  years  had  proved  his 
fidelity,  and  had  brought  his  battered  old  car- 
cass, at  the  end  of  the  voyage,  into  port  in  his 
master's  house. 

Seeing  no  one  else  of  whom  she  could  in- 
quire, Magdalen  requested  the,  old  man  to 
show  her  the  way  that  led  to  the  housekeep- 
er's room. 

"  I  '11  show  you,  my  dear,"  said  old  Mazey, 
speaking  in  the  high  and  hollow  voice  pecu- 
har  to  the  deaf.  "You  're  the  new  maid  — 
eh  ?  And  a  fine-grown  girl,  too  !  His  honor 
the  admiral  likes  a  parlor-maid  with  a'  clean 
run  fore  and  aft.  You  '11  do,  my  dear  — 
you  '11  do." 

"  You  must  not  mind  what  Mr.  Mazey  says 
to  you,"  remarked  the  housekeeper,  opening 
hei'  door,  as  the  old  sailor  expressed  his  ap- 
proval of  Magdalen  in  these  terms.  "  He  is 
privileged  to  talk  as  he  pleases;  and  he  is 
very,  tiresome  and  slovenly  in  his  habits — but 
he  means  no  harm." 

With  that  apology  for  the  veteran,  Mrs. 
Drake  led  Magdalen  first  to  the  pantry,  and 
next  to  the  linen-room,  installing  her  with  all 
due  formalifty  in  her  own  domestic  dominions. 
This  ceremony  completed,  the  new  parlor-, 
ftiaid  was  taken  up  stairs,  and  was  shown  the 
dining-room,  wiiich  opened  out  of  the  corridor 
on  the  first  floor.  Here  she  was  directed  to . 
lay  the  cloth,  and  to  prepare  the  table  for 
one  person  only,  Mr,  George  Bartram  not 
having  returned  with  his  uncle  to  St.  Crux. 
Mrs.  Drake's  sharp  eyes  watched  Magdalen 
attentively  as  she  performed  this  introductory 
duty,  and  Mrs.  Drake's  private  convictions, 
when  the  table  was  spread,  forced"  her  to 
acknowledge  so  far,  that  the  new  servant 
thoroughly  understood  her  work. 

An  hour  later  the  soup-tureen  was  placed 
on  the  table,  and  Magdalen  stood  alone  be- 
hind the  admiral's  empty  chair,  waiting  her 
master's  first  inspection  of  her  when  he  en- 
tered the  dining-room. 

A  large  bell  rang  in  the  lower  regions  — 
quick,  shambling  footsteps  pattered  on  the 
stone  corridor  outside  —  the  door  opened  sud- 
denly— and  a  tall,  lean,  yellow  old  man,  sharp 
as  to  his  eyes,  shrewd  as  to  his  lips,  fussily 
restless  as  to  all  his  movements,  entered  the 
room,  with  two  huge  Labrador  dogs  at  his 
heels,  and  took  his  seat  at  the  table  in  a 
violent  hurry.  The  dogs  followed  him,  and 
placed  themselves,  with  the  utmost  gravity 
and  composure,  one  on  each  side  of  his  chair. 


NO  NAME. 


235 


This  was  Admiral  Bartram,  and  thege  were 
the  companions  of  his  solitary  meal. 

"  Ay  !  ay  !  ay  !  hove  's  the  new  parlov-maid, 
to  be*  sure !"  he  began,  lookinnr  sharply,  but 
not  at  all  unkindly,  at  MagdaSi.  "]What  's 
your  name,  my  good  girl?  Loiii-sa,  is  it?  T 
shall  call  30U  Lucy,  if  you  don't  mind.  Take 
ofi"  tlie  cover,  my  dear  — I  'm  a  minute  or 
two  late  to-day.  Don't  be  unpum-tual  to- 
morrow on  that  account ;  I  am  as  regular  as 
clock-work  generally.  How  are  you  after 
your  journey?  Did  my  spring- cart  bump 
you  about  much  in  bringing  you  from  the  sta- 
tion ?  Capital  soup  this  —  hot  as  fire  —  re- 
minds me  of  the  soup  we  u?ed  to  have  in  the 
West  Indies  in  the  year  Three.  Have  you 
got  your  lialf-mourning  on  ?  Stand  there  and 
let  me  see.  Ah,  yes,  very  neat,  and  nice, 
and  tidy.  Poor  Mrs.  Girdlestone  !  Oh,  dear, 
dear,  dear,  poor  Mrs.  Girdlestone !  You  're 
not  afraid  of  dogs,  are  you  Lucy  ?  Eh  ? 
What  ?  You  like  dogs  ?  That 's  riglit.  Al- 
ways be  kind  to  dumb  animals.  Tliese  two 
dogs  dine  with  mo  every  day,  except  when 
there's  company.  The  dog  with  t])e  black 
nose  is  Brutus,  and  the  dog  with  the  white 
nose  is  Cassius.  Did  you  ever  kear  who  Bru- 
tus and  Cassius  were  ?  Ancient  Komans  ? 
That's  right  —  good  girl.  Mind  your  book 
and  your  needle,  and  we  '11  get  you  a  good 
husband  one  of  these  days.  Take  away  the 
soup,  my  dear— take  away  the  soupc" 

This  was  the  man  whose  secret  it  was  now 
the  one  interest  of  Magdalen's  life  to  sur- 
prise! This  was  the  man  Avhose  name  had- 
snjinlauted  hers  in  Noel  Vanstone's  will ! 

Ihe  fish  and  the  roast  meat  followed;  and 
the  admiral's  talk  rambled  on  —  now  in  solilo- 
quy, now  addressed  to. the  parlor-maid,  and 
now  directed  to  the  dogs  — as  familiarly  and 
as  disconnectedly  as  evpr.  Magdalen  observed, 
with  some  surprise,  that  the  companions  of 
the  admiral's  dinner  had,  thus  far,  received 
no  scraps  from  their  master's  plate.  The 
two  magnificent  brutes  sat  squatted  on  their 
.  haunches,  witli  their  great  heads  over  the 
table,  watching  the  progress  of  tlie  meal  with 
the  profoumlest  attention,  but  apparently  ex- 
pecting BO  share  in  it.  The  roast  meat  was 
removed,  the  admiral's  plate  jvas  changed, 
and  Magdalen  look  the  silver  covers  off  the 
two  made-dishc?  on  either  side  of  the  table. 
As  she  handed  the  first  of  the  savory  dishes 
to  her  master  the  dogs  suddenly  exhibited  a 
breathless  personal  interest  in  the  proceed- 
ings. Brutus  gluttoilously  watered  at  the 
mouth;  and  the  tongue  of  Cassius,  protruding 
in  unutterable  expectation,  sraokec^  again,  be- 
tween his  enormous  jaws. 

The  admiral  liclped  himself  liberally  from 
the  dish,  sent  Magdalen  to  the  side-table  to 
get  him  some  bread,  and,  when  he  thought 
her  eye  was  off  him,  furtively  tumbled  the 
whole  contents  of  his  plate  into  Brutus's 
mouth.  Cassius  whined  faintly  as  his  fortu- 
nate comrade  swallowed  the  savory  mess  at 


a  gulp.     "  Hush !  you   fool,"   whispered   the 
admiral.     "  Your  turn  next." 

Magdalen  presented  the  second  di.sh.  Once 
more  the  old  gentlernan^elped  himself  large- 
ly—  once*  more  he  sent  her  away  to  the  side- 
table —  once  more  he  tumbled  the  entire  con- 
tents of  the  plate  down  the  dog's  throat, 
selecting  Cassius  this  time,  as  became  a  con- 
siderate master  and  an  impartial  man.  "When 
the  next  course  followed  —  consisting,  of  a 
plaiff  pudding  and  an  unwhblesofne  "cream" 
— Magdalen's  suspicion  of  the  function  of  the 
dogs  at  the  dinner-table  was  confirmed.  While 
the  master  took  the  simple  pudding  the  dogs- 
swallowed  the  elaborate  cream.  The  admiral 
was  plainly  afraid  of  offending  his  cook  on 
the  one  hand,  and  of  offending  his  digestion 
on  the  other,  and  Brutus  and  .Cassius  were 
the  two  trained  accomplices  who  regularly 
helped  him  every  day  off  the  horns  of  his 
dilemma.  "  Very  good !  ver^  .good  !"  said 
the  o*ld  gentleman,  with  the  most  transparent 
duplicity.  "  Tell  the  cook,  my  dear,  a  capi- 
tal cream !" 

Having  placed  the  wine  and  dessert  on 
the  table,  Magdalen  was  about  to  withdraw. 
Before  she  could  leave  the  room  her  master 
called  her  back. 

"  Stop,  stop  !"  said  the  admiral.  "  You 
don't  know  the  ways  of  the  house  yet,  Lucy. 
Put  another  wine-glass  here  at  my  right  hand 
-^the  largest  you  can  find,  my  dear.  I  've 
got  a  third  dog,  who  comes  in  at  dessert — a 
drunken  old  sea-dog  who  has  followed  my 
fortunes  afloat  and  ashore  for  fifty  years  and 
more.  Y'^es,  yes  ;  that 's  the  sort  of  glass  we 
want.  Y'oii  're  a  good  girl  —  you  're  a  neat, 
handy  girl.  Steady  my  dear !  there  's  nothing 
to  be  frightened  at !" 

A  sudden  thump  on  the  outside  of  the  door, 
followed  by  one  mighty  bark  from  each  of  the 
dogs,  had  made  Magdalen  start.  "  Come  in  !" 
shouted  the  admiral.  The  door  opened ;  the 
tails  of  Brutus  and  Cassius  cheerfully  thumped 
the  floor ;  ami  old  Mazey  marched  straight  up 
to  the  right-hand  side  of  his  mastbr's  chair. 
The  veteran  stood  there,  with  his  legs  wide 
apart  and  his  balance  carefully  adjusted  —  as 
if  the  dining-room  had  been  a  cabin  and  the 
house  a  ship,  pitching  in  a  sc.a-way. 
■  The  admiral  filled  the  large  glass  with  i)ort, 
filled  his  own  glass  with  claret,  and  raised  it 
to  his  lips. 

"  God  bless  the  Queen,  Mazey !"  said  the 
admiral. 

"  Goii.  bless  the  Queen,  your  honor,"  said 
old  Mazev,  swallowing  his  port,  as  the  dogs 
swallowed  the  made-dishes,  at  a  gulp. 

"  How  's  the  wind,  Mazey  ?" 

'.'  West  and  by  Noathe,  your  honor." 

"  Any  report  to-night,  Mazey  ?" 

"  No  report,  your  honor." 

"  Good-evening,  Mazey." 
-  "  Good-evening,  your  honor." 

The  after-dinner  ceremony  thus  completed, 
old  Mazey  made  Ms  bow,  and  walked  out  of 


236 


NO  NAME. 


the  room  again.  Brutus  and  Casslus  stretched 
themselves  on  the  rug  to  digest  mushrooms 
and  made-gravies  in  the  lubricating  heat  of 
the  fire.  "  For  what  we  have  received,  the 
Lord  make  us  truly  thankful,"  said  the  admjral. 
"  Go  down  stairs,  my>good  girl,  and  get  your 
supper.  A  light  meal,  Lucy,  if  you  take  my 
advice  —  a  light  meal,  or  you  will  have  the 
nightmare.  Early  to  bed,  my  dear,  and  early 
to  rise,  makes  a  parlor  -  maid  healthy,  and 
wealthy,  and  wise.  That 's  the  wisdom  of  your 
ancestors  —  you  mustn't  laugh  at  it.  Good- 
night." In  those  words  Magdalen  was  dis- 
missed ;  and  so  her  first  day's  experience  of 
Admiral  Bartram  came  to  an  end. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning  the  admi- 
ral's directions  to  the  new  parlor-maid  included 
among  them  one  particular  order  which,  in 
Magdalen's  situation,  it  was  especially  her  in- 
terest to  receive.  In  the  old  gentleman's 
absence  from  Rome  that  day,  on  local  business' 
which  took  him  to  Ossory,  she  was  directed  to 
make  herself  accjuainted  with  the  whole  in- 
habited quarter  of  the  house,  and  to  learn  the 
positions  of  the  various  rooms,  so  as  to  know 
where  the  bells  called  her  when  the  bells  rang. 
Mrs.  Drake  was  charged  with  the  duty  of  su- 
perintending the  voyage  of  domestic  discovery, 
unless  she  happened  to  be  otherwise  engaged 

—  in  T^hich  case  any  one  of  the  inferior  ser- 
vants would  be  equally  competent  to  act  as 
Magdalen's  guide. 

At  noon  the  admiral  left  for  Ossory,  and 
Magdalen  presented  herself  in  Mrs,  Drake's 
room  to  be  shown  over  the  house.  Mrs.  Drake 
happened  to  be  otherwise  engaged,  and  re- 
ferred her  to  the  head-housemaid.  The  head- 
housemaid  happened  on  that  particular  morn- 
ing to  be  in  the  same  condition  as  Mrs.  Drake, 
and  referred  her  to  the  under -housemaids. 
The  under-housemaids  declared  that  they  were 
all  behindhand,  and  had  not  a  minute  to  spare 

—  they  suggested,  not  too  civill}^,  that  old 
Mazey  had  nothing  on  earth  to  do,  and  that 
he  knew  the  house  as  well  or  better  than  he 
knew  his  ABC.  Magdalen  took  the  hint 
with  a  secret  indignation  and  contempt  which 
it  cost  her  a  hard  struggle  to  conceal.  She 
had  suspected  on  the  previous  night,  and  she 
■was  certain  now,  that  the  women-servants  all 
incomprehensibly  resented  her  presence  among 

:  them  with  the  same  sullen  unanimity  of  dis- 
trust. Mrs.  Drake,  as  she  had  seen  for  herself, 
was  really  engaged  that  morning  over  her 
accounts.  But  of  all  the  servants  u^er  her 
who  hjid  made  their  excuses  not  one  had  even 

:  affected  to  be  more  occupied  than  usual.  Their 
looks  said  plainly,  "We  don't  like  you,  and 
we  won't  «how  you  over  the  house." 

She  found  her  way  to  old  Mazey,  not  by  the 

,  scanty  directions  given  her,  but  hy  the  sound 
of  the  veteran's  cracked  and  quavering  voice, 
singing,  in  some  distant  seclusion,  a  verse  of 
the  immortal  rsea-song — "  Tom  Bowling."  Just 

.  as  she  stopped  among   the  rambling  stone 


passages  on  the  basement  story  of  the  house, 
uncertain  which  way  to  turn  next,  she  heard 
the  tuneless  old  voice  in  the  distance  singing 
these  lines : 

"  His  form  wrffc  of  the  manliest  beau-u-u-uty, 
His  heart  was  ki-i-ind  and  soft ; 
Faitliful  below  Tom  did  his  duty, 
But  now  he's  gone  alo-o-o-o-oft— > 
But  now  he's  go  o-o-one  aloft  I" 

Magdalen  followed  in  the  direction  of  the 
quavering  voice,  and  found  herself  in  a  little 
room  looking  out  on  the  back-yard.  There  sat 
oM  Mazey,  with  his  spectacles  low  on  his  nose 
and  his  knotty  old  hands  blundering  over  the 
rigging  of  his  model  ship.  There  were  Brutus 
and  Cassius  digesting  before  the  fire  again,  and 
siforing  as  if  they  thoroughly  enjoyed  it.  There 
was  Lord  Nelson  on  one  wall,  in  flaming  water- 
colors  ;  and  there,  on  the  other,  was  a  portrait 
of  Admiral  Bartram's  last  flag-ship  in  full  sail 
on  a  sea  of  slate,  with  a  salmon-colored  sky  to 
complete  the  illusion. 

"  What !  they  won't  show  you  over  the 
house,  won't  they  ?"  said  old  Mazey.  "  I  will, 
then.  That  head-housemaid  's  a  sour  one, 
my  dear,  if  ever  there  was  a  sour  one  yet. 
You  're  too  young  and  good-looking  to  please 
'em — that  's  what  you  are."  He  rose,  took  off 
his  spectacles,  and  feebly  mended  the  fire. 
"  She  's  as  straight  as  a  poplar,"  said  old 
Mazey,  considering  Magdalen's  figure  in 
drowsy  soliloquy.  "  I  say  she  's  as  straight  as 
a  poplar ;  and  his  honor  the  admiral  says  so 
too !  Come  along,  my  dear,"  he  proceeded, 
addressing  himself  to  Magdalen  again.  "  I  '11 
teach  3-ou  your  Pints  of  the  Compass  first. 
When  you  know  your  Pints,  bloAV  high,  blow 
low,  you  '11  find  it  plain  sailing  all  over  the 
house." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  door,  stopped,  and 
suddenly  bethinking  himself  of  his  miniature 
ship,  went  back  to  put  his  model  away  in  an 
empty  cupboard  —  led  the  w^y  to  the  door 
again — stopped  once  more — remembered  that 
some  of  the  rooms  were  chilly  —  and  pottered 
about,  swearing  and  grumblings,  and  looking 
for  his  hat.  Magdalen  sat  down  patiently  to 
wait  for  him.  She  gratefully  contrasted  his 
treatment  of  her  with'  the  treatment  she  had 
received  from  the  women.  Resist  it  as  firmly, 
despise  it  as  proudly  as  we  inay,  all  studied 
unkindness  —  no  matter  how  contemptible  ifc 
may  be  —  has  a  stinging  power  in  it  which 
reaches  to  the  quick.  Magdalen  only  knew , 
how  she  had  felt  the  small  malice  of  the 
female  servants  by  the  effect  which  the  rough 
kindness  of  the  old  sailor  produced  on  her 
afterward.  The  dumb  welcome  of  the  dogs, 
when  the  movements  in  the  room  had  roused 
them  from  their  sleep,  touched  her  more 
acutely  still.  Brutus  pushed  his  mighty 
muzzle  companionably  into  her  hand,  and 
Cassius  laid  his  friendly  forepaw  on  her  lap. 
Her  heart  yearned  over  the  two  creatures  as 
she  patted  and  caressed  them.  It  seemed  only 
yesterday  since  she  and  the  dogs  at  Combe- 
Raven  had  roamed  the  garden  together,  and  , 


NO  NMIE. 


237 


had  Idled  away  tbe  summer  mornings  lujcu- 
^iously  on  the  shady  lawn. 

Old  Mazey  found  his  hat  at  last,  and  they 
started  on  their  exploring  expedition,  with 
the  dogs  after  them. 

Leaving  the  basement  story  of  the  house, 
'  which  was  entirely  devoted  to  the  servants' 
offices,  they  ascended  to  the  first  floor,  and 
entered  the  long  corridor,  with  which  Mag- 
dalen's last  night's  experience  had  already 
made  her  acquainted.  "  Put  your  back  agin 
this  wall,"  said  old  Mazey,  pointing  to  the 
long  wall — pierced  at  irregular  intervals  with 
windows  looking  out  over  a  court-yard  and 
fish-pond  —  which  formed  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  corridor,  as  Magdalen  now  stood.  "  Put 
your-  back  here,"  said  the  veteran,  "  and  look 
straight  afore  you.  What  do  30U  see  ?"  "The 
opposite  wall  of  the  passage,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  Ay  ?  ay  ?  what  else  ?"  "The  doors  leading 
into  the  rooms."  "  What  else  ?"  "  I  see 
nothing  else."  Old  Mazey  chuckled,  winked, 
and  shook  his  knotty  forefinger  at  ^lagdalen 
impressively.  "  You  see  one  of  the  Pints  of 
the  Compass,  my  dear.  When  you  've  got 
your  back  agin  this  wall,  and  when  you  look 
straight  afore  you.  you  look  Noathe.  If  you 
ever  get  lost  hereaway,  put  your  back  agin 
the  wall,  look  out  straight  afore  you,  and  say 
to  yourself,  ,'  I  look  Noathe !'  You  do  that 
like  a  good  girl,  and  you  won't  lose  your  bear- 
ings." 

After  administering  this  preliminary^dose  of 
instruction,  old  Mazey  opened  the  first  of  the 
doors  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  passage.  It 
led  into  the  dining-room,  with  which  Magda- 
len was  already  familiar.  The  second  room 
was  fitted  up  as  a  library,  and  the  third  as  a 
morning-room.  The  fourth  and  fifth  doors — 
both  belonging  to  dismantled  and  uninhabited 
rooms,  and  both  locked — brought  them  to  the 
end  of  the  North  wing  of  the  house,  and  to 
the  opening  of  a  second  and  shorter  passage, 
pladed  at  a  right  angle  to  the  first.  Here  old 
Mazey,  Avho  had  divided  his  time  pretty  equal- 
ly, during  the  investigation  of  the  rooms,  in 
talking  of"  his  honor  the  admiral,"  and  whist- 
ling to  the  dogs,  returned  with  all  possible 
expedition  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  and 
gravely  directed  Magdalen  to  repeat  the  cer- 
emony of  putting  her  back  against  the  wall. 
She  attempted  to  shorten  the  proceedings  by 
declaring  ((juite  correctly)  that  in  her  present 
position  she  knew  she  was  looking  East. 
"  Don't  you  talk  about  the  East,  my  dear," 
said  old  Mazey,  proceeding  unmoved  with  his 
own  system  of  instruction,  "  till  you  know  the 
East  first.  Put  your  back  agin  this  wall,  and 
look  straight  afore  you.  What  do  you  see  ?" 
The  remainder  of  the  catechism  proceeded  as 
before.  When  the  end  was  reached,  Magda- 
len's instructor  was  satisfied.  He  chuckled 
and  winked  at  her  once  more.  "  Now  you 
may  talk  about  the  East,  my  dear,"  said  the 
veteran,  "  for  now  you  know  it." 

The  East  passage,  after  leading  them  on  for 


a  few  yards  only,  terminated  in  a  vestibule, 
with  a  high  door  in  it  which  faced  them  as 
they  advanced.  The  door  admitted  them  to 
a  large  and  lofty  drawing-room,  decorated, 
like  all  the  other  apartments,  with  valuable 
old  -  fashioned  furniture.  Leading  the  way 
across  this  room,  Magdalen's  conductor  pushed 
back  a  heavy  sliding  door,  opposite  the  door 
of  entrance.  "  Put  your  apron  over  your 
heacf,"  said  old  Mazey.  "  We  are  coming  to 
the  Banketing-hall  noAV.  The  floor  's  mortal 
cold,  and  the  damp  sticks  to  the  place  like 
cockroaches  to  a  collier.  His  honor  the  ad- 
miral calls  it  the  Arctic  Passage.  I've  got  my 
name  tor  it  too.     I  call  it  Freeze-your-Bones." 

Magdalen  passed  through  the  door-way,  and 
found  herself  in  the  ancient  banqueting-hall 
of  St.  Crux. 

On  her  left  hand  she  saw  a  roMf  of  lofty 
windows,  sot  deep  in  embrasul-es,  and  extend- 
ing over  a  frontage  of  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  in  length.  On,  her  right  hand,  ranged  in 
one  long  row  from  end  to  end  of  the  opposite 
wall,  hung  a  dismal  collection  of  black  be- 
grimed old  pictures,  rotting  from  their  frames, 
and  representing  battle -scenes  by  sea  and 
land.  Below  the  pictures,  midway  down  the 
length  of  the  wall,  yawned  a  huge  cavern 
of  a  fireplace,  surmounted  by  a  towering 
mantle-piece  of  black  marble.  The  one  ob- 
ject of  furniture  (if  furniture  it  might  be 
called)  visible  far  or  near  in  the  vast  empti- 
ness of  the  place  was  a  gaunt  ancient  tripod 
of  curiously-chased  metal,  standing  lonely  in 
the  middle  of  the  hall,  and  supporting  a  wide 
circular  pan  •  filled  deep  with  ashes  from  an 
extinct  charcoal  fire.  The  high  ceiling,  once 
finely  carved  and  gilt,  was  foul  with  dirt  and 
cobwebs  ;  the  naked  walls  at  either  end  of 
the  room  were  stained  with  damp ;  and  the 
cold  of  the  marble  floor  struck  through  the 
narrow  strip  of  matting  laid  down,  parallel 
with  the  windows,  as  a  footpath  for  passengers 
across  the  wilderness  of  the  room.  No  better 
name  for  it  could  have  been  devised  than  the 
name  which  old  Mazey  had  found.  "Freeze- 
your-Bones"  accurately  described,  in  three 
words,  the  Banqueting-hall  at  St.  Crux.      ^ 

"Do  you  never  light  a  fire  in  this  dismal 
place  ?"  asked  Magda'en. 

"It  all  depends  on  which  side  of  Freeze- 
your-Bones  his  honor  the  admiral  lives,"  said 
old  Mazey.  "  His  honor  likes  to  shift  his 
quarters  sometimes  to  one  side  of  the  house, 
sometimes  to  the  other.  If  he  lives  Noathe  of 
Freeze-your-Bones  —  which  is  where  you  've 
just  come  from — we  don't  waste  our  coals 
here.  If  he  lives  South  of  Freeze-your-Bones 
—  which  is  where  we  ar%  going' to  next  —  we 
light  the  fire  in  the  grate  and  the  charcoal  in 
the  pan.  Every  night  when  we  do  that  the 
damp  gets  the  better  of  us :  every  morning 
we  turn  to  again  and  get  the  better  of  the 
damp." 

With  tnis  remarkable  explanation  old  Ma- 
zey led  the  way  to  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,. 


238 


NO  NAME. 


opened  more  doors,  and  showed  Magdalen 
through  another  suit  of  rooms,  four  in  number, 
all  of  moderate  size,  and  all  furnisfied  in  much 
the  same  manner  as  th&^ooms  in  the  nortliern 


■wing.     S)ie  looked  out  of  the  windows,  and  ■ " Noathe "  included,  and  then  repeated   her 


saw  the  neglected  gardens  of  St.  Crux  over- 
grown with  brambles  and  WQetls.  Here  and 
there,  at  no  great  distance  in  the  grounds,  the 
smoothly  -  curving  line  of  one  of  the  tidal 
streams  peculiar  to  the  locality'  wound  its 
way,  gleaming  in  the  sunlight,  through  gaps 
in  the  brambles  and  trees.  The  more  distant 
view  ranged  over  the  flat  eastward  country 
beyond,  speckled  with  its  scattered  little  vil- 
lages ;  crossed  and  recrossed  by  its  net-work 
of  "  back-waters ;"  and  terminated  abruptly 
by  the  long,  straight  line  of  sea-wall  which 
protects  the  defenseless  coast  of  Essex  from 
nivasion  by  the  sea. 

"  Have  we  more  rooms  still  to  see  ?"  asked 
Magdalen,  turning  from  the  view  of  the  gar- 
den, and  looking  about  her  for  another  door. 

"  No  more,  my  dear  — "we  've  run  aground 
here,  and  we  may  as  well  wear  round  and  put 
back  again/'  said  old  Mazey.  "  There  's 
another  side  to  the  house  —  due  south  of  you 
as  you  stand  now — which  is  all  tumbling  about 
our  eai's.     You  must  go  out  into  the  garden  if 


over  'em  again,  my  dear,  beginning  with  the 
Noathe."  * 

Magdalen  assured  him  that  she  felt  q^uite. 
familiar  by  this  time  with  all  the  points,  the 


question  in  louder  tones.  The  veteran  obsti- 
nately matched  her  by  becoming  deafer  than 
ever. 

".Yes,  my  dear,"  lie  said  ;  '.'  you  're  right;  it 
is  chilly  in  these  passages ;  and  unless  I  go 
back  to  my  fire  my  fire  '11  go  out  —  won't  it? 
If  you  don't  feel  sure  of  your  Pints  of  the 
Compass,  come  in  to  me,  and  I  '11  put  you 
right  again."  He  winked  benevolently,  whis- 
tled to  the  dogs,  and  hobbled  ofi".  Magdalen 
heard  him  chuckle  over  his  own  success  in 
balking  her  curiosity  on  the  subject  ofrthe 
second  floor.  "  I  know  how  to  deal  with 
'em ! "  said  old  Mazey  to  himself,  in  higli 
triumph.  "  Tall  and  short,  native  and  for- 
eign, sweethearts  and  wives  —  /  know  how 
to  deal  with  'em  ! "         ' 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  exemplified  the 
excellence  of  the  old  sailor's  method  of  treat- 
ment, in  her  particular  case,  by  ascending  the 
stairs  immediately,  to  make  her  own  observa- 
tions on  the  second  floor.  The  stone  passage 
here  was  exactly  similar  —  exce[)t  that  more 
you  want  to  see  it ;  it  's  built  off  from  us  by  a  |  doors  opened  out  of  it  —  to  the  passage  on  tlie 
"brick  bulkhead,  t'  other  side  of  this  wall  here.  I  first  floor.  She  opened  the  two  nearest  doors, 
The  monks  lived  due  south  of  us,  my  dear.  !  one  after  another,  a^t  a  venture,  and  discov- 
hundreds  of  years  afore  his  lipnor  the  admiral }  ered  that  both  rooms  were  bedchambers, 
was  born  or  thought  of;  and  a  fine  time  of  it  I  The  fear  of  being  discovered  by  one  of  the 
they  had,  as  I  've  heard.  They  sang  in  the  !  women-servants  in  a  part  of  the  house  with 
church  all  the  moVning,  and  drank,  grog  in  I  which  she  had  no  concern,  warned  her  not  to 
the  orchard  all  the  afternoon.*  They  slept  off  push  her  investigations  on  the  bedroom  floor 
their  grog  on  the  best  of  feather-beds ;  and  |  too  far  at  starting.  .  She  hurriedly  walked 
they  fattened  on  the  neighborhood  all  the  year  1  down  the  passage  to  see  where  it  ended  ;  dis- 
round.     Lucky  beggars  !  lucky  beggars!"  !  covered   that  it  came  to  its  termination  in  a 

Apostrophizing'tlie  monks  in  these  terms,  j  lumber-room,  answering  to  the  position  of  the 
and  evidently  regretting  that  he  had  not  lived  j  vestibule  down  stairs,  and  retraced  her  steps 
himself  in  those  good  old  times,  the  veteran  j  immediately. 

led  the  way  back  through  the  rooms.  On  the  '  On  her  way  back  she  noticed  an  object 
return  j)assage  across  "  Freeze-vour-Bones "' which  had  previously  escaped  her  attention. 
Magdalen  preceded  him.  "  She  "s  as  straight  It  was  a  low  truck]e-bed,  placed  parallel  with 
as  a  poplar."  mumbled  old  Mazey  to  himself,  '  the  wall,  and  close  to  one  of  the  doors  on  the 
hobbling  along  after  his  youthful  companion,  I  bedroom  side.  In  spite  of  its  strange  and 
and  wagging"  his  venerable  head  in  cordial  [  comfortless  situation,  the  bed  was  apparently 
approval.''  '•"  I  never  was  particular  what  na- { occupied  at  night  by  a  sleeper;  ,the  sheets 
tion  they  belonged  to  ;  but  I  always  did  like  were  on  it,  and  the  end  of  a  thick,  red  fisher- 
them  straight  and  fine-grown,  and  I  always  j  man's  cap  peeped  out  from  under  the  pillow. 
shall  like  'em  straight  and  fine-grown  to  my  She  ventured  on  opening  the  door  near  which 
dvinf  dav."  '  the  bed  was  placed,  and  found  herself,  as  she 

"  "Are  there  more  rooms  to  see  up  stairs,  on  !  conjectured  from  certain  signs  and  tokens,  in 
the  second  floor  ? "'  asked  Magdalen,  when  !  the  admiral's  sleeping-<;hamber.  A  woman's 
thev  had  returned  to  the  point  from  which  I  observation  of  the  room  was  all  she  dared 


they  had  started. 

The  naturally  clear,  distinrt  tones  of  her 
voice  had  hitherto  reached  the  old  sailor's 
imperfect  sense  of  hearing  easily  enough. 
Rather  to  her  surprise,  he  became  stone-deaf, 
on  a  sudden,  to  her  last  question. 

"'Are  you  sure  of  your  Pints  of  the  Com- 
pass ?  "  he  inquired.     "  If  you  're  not  sure, 


risk,  and  softly  closing  the  door  again  she  re- 
turned to  the  kitchen  regions. 

The  truckle-bed,  and  the  strange  position 
in  which  it  was  placed,  dwelt  on  her  mind  all 
through  the  afternoon.  Who  could  possibly 
sleep  "in  it  ?  The  remembrance  of  the  red 
fisherman's  cap,  and  the  knowledge  she  had 
already  gained  of  Mazey's  doglike  fidelity  to 


put  your  back  agin  the  wall,  and  we  '11  go  all '  his  master,  helped  her  to  guess  that  the  old 


NO  NAME. 


239 


sailor  might  be  the  occupant  of  the  truckle- 
bed.  But  why,  with  bedrooms  enough  and 
to  spare,  should  he  occupy  that  cold  and  com- 
fortless situation  at  night '.''  Why  should  he 
sleep  on  guard  outdde  his  master's  door? 
Was  there  some  nocturnal  danger  in  the 
house  of  which  the  admiral  was  afraid?  The 
question  seemed  absurd,  and  yet  the  position 
of  the  bed  forced  it  irresistibly  on  her  mind. 
Stimulated  by  her  6wri  ungovernable  curi- 
osity on  this  subject.  Magdalen  ventured  to 
(juesr.ion  the  housekeeper.  She  acknowk'dged 
having  walked  from  end  to  end  of  the  pas- 
sage on  the  second  floor,  to  see  if  it  was  as 
long  as  the  passage  on  the  first;  and  she  men-  , 
tioned  having  noticed  with  astonishment  the 
position  of  the  truckle  -  bed.  Mrs.  Drake 
answered  her.  implied  inquiry  shortly  and 
sharply.  "  I  don't  blame  a  young  girl  like 
you,"  said  the  old  lady,  "for  being  a  little 
curious  wlien  she  first  comes  into  such  a  strange 
house  as  this.  But  remember,  for  the  future,  \ 
that  your  business  does  not  lie  in  the  bedroom 
story.  Mr.  Mazey  sleeps  on  that  bed  you 
noticed.  It  is  his  habit  at  night  to  sleep  out- 
side his  master's  door."  Witli  that  meagre 
explanation  Mrs.  Drake's  lips  closed,  and 
opened  no  more.' 

Later  in  the  day  Magdalen  found  an  op- 
portunitj-  of  applying  to  old  Mazey  himself. 
She  discovered  the  veteran  in  high  good- 
humor,  smoking  his  pipe  and  warming  a  tin 
mug  of  ale  at  his  own  snug  fire. 

•'  ]Mr.  MazeyV  she  asked  boldly,  "  why  do 
you  put  your  bed  in  that  cold  passage  V" 

*'  What!  you  have  been  up  st.tjrs,  you  young 
jade,  have  you  ?"  said  old  Mazey,  looking  up 
from  his  mug  with  a  leer. 

Magdalen  smiled  and  nodded.  "  Come  ! 
come.!  tell  "me,"  she  said,  eoaxingly.  "Why 
do  you  sleep  outside  the  admiral's  door  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  part  your  hair  in  the  middle, 
my  dear  ?"  asked  old  Mazey,  with  another 
leer. 

"  I  suppose  because  I  am  accustomed  to  do 
it,"  answered  Magdalen. 

"  Ay  ?  ay  V"  said  the  veteran.  "  That  '3 
why,  is  it  V  Well,  my  dear,  the  reason  why 
you  part  your  liair  in  the  middle  is  the  reason 
why  I  sleep  outside  the  admiral's  door.  I 
know  how  to  deal  with  'em ! "  chuckled  old 
Maze}',  lapsing  into  soliloquy,  and  stirring  up 
his  ale  in  high  triumph.  "  Tall  and  short, 
native  and  foreign,  sweethearts  and  wives  — 
/  know  how  to  deal  with  'em  !" 

INIagdalen's  third  and  l*st  attempt  at  solv- 
ing the  mystery  of  the  truckle-bed  was  made 
while  she  was  waiting  on  the  admiral  at  din- 
ner. The  old  gentleman's  questions  gave  her 
an  opportunity  of  referring  to  the  subject 
without  any  appearance  of  presumption  or 
disrespect ;  but  he  proved  to  be  quite  as  im- 
penetrable, in  his  way,  as  old  Mazey  and 
Mrs.  Drake  had  been  in  theirs.  "  It  doesn't 
eonccrn  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  admiral, 
bluntly.     "  Don't  be  curious.     Look  in  your 


Old  Testament  when  you  go  down  stairs,  and 
see  what  happened  in  the  Garden  of  Eden 
through  curiosity.  Be  a  good  girl,  and  don't 
imitate  youi*  mother  Eve." 

As  Magdalen  passed  the  end  of  the  second- 
floor  passage  late  at  night,  proceeding  alone 
on  hep  way  up  to  her  own  room,  she  stopped 
and  listened.  A  screen  was  placed  at  the 
entrance  of  the  corridor,  so  as  to  hide  it  from 
the  view  of  persons  passing  on  the  stairs. 
The  snoring  she  heard  on  the  other  side  of 
the  screen  encouraged  her  to  slip  round  it, 
and  to  advance  a  few  steps.  Shading  the 
light  of  her  candle  with  her  hand,  she  ven- 
tured close  to  the  admiral's  door,  and  saw  to 
her  surprise  that  the  bed  had  been  moved 
since  she  had  seen  it  in  the  daytime,  so  as  to 
stand  exactly  across  the  door,  and  to  bar  the 
way  entirely  to  any  one  who  might  attempt 
to  enter  tlie  admiral's  room.  •  After  this  dis- 
covery, old  Mazey  himself  snoring  lustily, 
with  the  red  fisherman's  cap  pulled  down  to 
his  eyebrows,  and  the  blankets  drawn  up  to 
his  nose,  became  an  object  of  secondary  im- 
portance only  by  comparison  with  his  bed. 
That  the  veteran  did  actually  sleep  on  guard 
before  his  master's  door,  and  that  he  and  the 
admiral  ancl  the  housekeeper  were  in  the 
secret  of  this  unaccountable  proceeding,  was 
now  beyond  all  doubt. 

"  A  strange  end" — thought  Magdalen,  pon- 
dering  over   her   discovery  as  she   stole  up 
'  stairs  to  her  own  sleeping-room  —  "  a  strange 
end  to  a  strange  day  !" 


CHAPTER  IL 

The  first  week  passed,  the  second  week 
passed,  and  Magdalen  was,  to  all  appearance, 
no  nearer  to  the  discovery  of  the  Secret 
Trust  than  on  the  day  when  she  first  entered 
on  her  service  at  St.  Crjix. 

But  the  fortnight,  uneventful  though  it 
was,  had  not  been  a  fortnight  lost.  Experi- 
ence had  already  satisfied  her  on  one  impor- 
tant point  —  experience  had  shown  that  she 
could  set  the  rooted  distrust  of  the  other  ser- 
vants satcly  at  defiance.  Time  had  accus- 
tomed the  women  to  her  presence  in  the 
house,  without  shaking  the  vague  conviction, 
which  possessed  them  all  alike,  that  the  new- 
comer was  not  one  of  themselves.  All  that 
Magdalen  could  do  in  her  own  defense  was 
to  keep  the  int^tinctive  female  suspicion  of  her 
confined  within  those  purely  negative  limits 
which  it  had  occupied  from  the  first,  and  this 
she  accomplished. 

Day  atter  day  the  women  watched  her 
with  the  untiring  vigilance  of  malice  and  dis- 
trust, and  day  after  day  not  tlie  vestige  of 
a  discovery  rewarded  them  for  their  pai^is. 
Silently,  intelligently,  and  industriously,  with, 
an  ever-present  remembrance  of  herself  and 
her  place,  the  new  parlor-maid  did  her  work. 


240 


NO  NAME. 


Her  only  intervals  of  rest  and  relaxation 
were  the  intervals  passed  occasionally,  in  the 
day,  with  old  Mazey  and  the  dogs,  and  the 
precious  interval  of  j;he  night,  during  which 
she  was  secure  from  observation  in  the  soli- 
tude of  her  room.  Thanks  to  the  superfluity 
of  bedchambers  at  St.  Crux,  each  one  of  the 
servants  had  the  choice,  if  she  pleased,  of 
sleeping  in  a  room  of  her  own.  Alone  in  the 
night,  Magdalen  .  might  dare  to  be  herself 
again  —  might  dream  of  the  past,  and  wake 
from  the  dream,  encountering  no  curious  eyes 
to  notice  that  she  was  in  tears — might  ponder 
over  the  future,  and  be  roused  by  no  whis- 
pering in  corners,  which  tainted  her  with  the 
suspicion  of  "  having  something  on  her  mind.'" 

Satisfied,  thus  far,  of  the  perfect  security 
of  her  position  in  the  house,  she  profited  next 
by  a  second  chance  in  her  faVor,  which  — 
before  the  fortnight  was  at  an  end — relieved 
her  mind  of  all  doubt  on  the  formidable  sub- 
ject of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Partly  from  the  accidental  gossip  of  the  wom- 
en at  the  table  in  the  servants'  hall  —  partly 
from  a  marked  paragraph  in  a  Swiss  newspa- 
per which  she  had  found  one  morning  lying 
open  on  the  admiral's  easy-chair — she  gained 
the  welcome  assurance  that  no  danger  was  to 
be  dreaded  this  time  from  the  housekeeper's 
presence  on  the  scene.  Mrs.  Lecount  had,  as 
it  appeared,  passed  a  week  or  more  at  St. 
Crux  after  the  date  of  her  master's  death, 
and  had  then  left  England  to  live  on  the  in- 
terest of  her  legacy,  in  honorable  and  pros- 
perous retirement,  in  her  native  place.  The 
paragraph  in  the  Swiss  newspaper  described 
the  fulfilment  of  this  laudable  project.  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  not  only  established  herself  at 
Zurich,  but  (wisely  mindful  of  the  uncertain- 
ty of  life)  had  also  settled  the  charitable  uses 
to  which  her  fortune  was  to  be  applied  after 
her  death.  One-half  of  it  was  to  go  to  the 
founding  of  a  "  Lecompte  Scholarship  "  for 
poor  students  in  the  University  of  Geneva.  ' 
The  other  half  was  to  be  employed  by  the 
municipal  authorities  of  Zurich  in  the  main- 
tenance and  education  of  a  certain  number  of 
orphan  girls,  natives  of  the  city,  who  were  to 
be  trained  for  domestic  service  in  later  life. 
The  Swiss  journalist  adverted  to  these  philan- 
thropic bequests  in  terms  of  extravagant 
eulogy.  Zurich  was  congratulated  on  the 
possession  of  a  Paragon  of  public  virtue  ;  and 
William  Tell,  in  the  character  of  benefactor 
to  Switzerland,  was  compared  disadvanta- 
geously  with  IMrs.  Lecount. 

The  third  week  began,  and  Magdalen  was 
now  at  liberty  to  take  her  first  step  forward  on 
the  way  to  the  discovery  of  the  Secret  Trust. 

She  ascertained  from  old  Mazey  that  it  was 
his  master's  custom,  during  the  winter  and 
spring  months,  ^  occupy  the  rooms  in  the 
north  wing ;  and  during  the  summer  and  au- 
tumn to  cross  the  Arctic  passage  of  "  Freeze- 
your-Bones,"  and  live  in  the  eastward  apart- 


ments which  looked  out  on  the  garden.  While 
the  Banqueting-hall  remained  —  owing  to  the 
admiral's  inadequate  pecuniary  resources — in 
its  damp  and  dismantled  state,  and  while  the 
interior  of  St.  Crux  was  thus  comfortlessly 
divided  into  two  separate  residences,  no  more 
convenient  arrangement  than  this  could  well 
have  been  devised.  Now  and  then  (as  Mag- 
dalen understood  from  her  informant)  there 
were  days,  both  in  Avinter  and  summer,  when 
the  admiral  became  anxious  about  the  condi- 
tion of  the  rooms  which  he  was  not  occupying 
at  the  time,  and  when  he  insisted  on  investi- 
gating the  state  of  the  furniture,  the  pictures, 
and  the  books  with  his  own  eyes.  On  these 
occasions — in  summer  as  in  winter — a  blazing 
fire  was  kindled  for  some  days  previously  in 
the  large  grate,  and  the  charcoal  was  lit  in 
the  tripod  pan,  to  keep  the  Banqueting-hall 
as  warm  as  circumstances  wouhl  admit.  As 
soon  as  the  old  gentleman's  anxieties  were  set 
at  rest  the  rooms  were  shut  up  again ;  and 
"  Freeze-your-Bones "  was  once  more  aban- 
doned for  weeks  and  weeks  together  to  damp, 
desolation,  and  decay.  The  last  of  these  ■ 
temporary  migrations  had  taken  place  only  a 
few  days  since;  the  admiral  had  satisfied  him- 
self that  tho  rooms  in  the  east  wing  were 
none  the  worse  for  the  absence  of  their  mas- 
ter— and  he  might  now  be  safely  reckoned  on 
as  settled  in  the  north  wing  for  weeks,  and 
perhaps,  if  the  season  was  cold,  for  months  to 
come. 

Trifling  as  they  might  be  in  themselves, 
these  particulars  were  of  serious  .importance 
to  Magdalen,  for  they  helped  her  to  fix  the 
«limits  of  the  field  of  search.  Assuming  that 
the  admiral  was  likely  to  keep  all  his  im- 
portant documents  within  easy  reach  of  his 
own  hand,  she  might  now  feel  c'ertaiu  that  the 
Secret  Trust  was  secured  in  one  or  other  of 
the  rooms  in  the  north  wing. 

In  which  room  ?  That  question  was  not 
easy  to  answer. 

Of  the  four  inhabitable  rooms,  which  were 
all  at  the  admiral's  disposal  during  the  day  — 
that  is  to  say,  of  the  dining-room,  the  library, 
the  morning -room,  and  the  drawing-room, 
opening  out  of  the  vestibule  —  the  library  ap- 
peared to  be  the  apartment  in  which,  if  he 
had  a  preference,  he  passed  the  greater  part 
of  his  time.     There  was  a  table  in  this  room,  . 
with  drawers  that  locked ;  there  was  a  mag-.^ 
nificent    Italian    cabinet,    with     doors    that' 
locked ;  there  were  five  cupboards  under  the 
bookcases,  every  one  of  which  locked.    There 
were  receptacles  similarly  secured  in  the  other 
rooms,  in  all  or  any  of  which  papers  might  be 
kept. 

She  had  answered  the  bell,  and  had  seen 
him  locking  and  unlocking,  now  in  one  room, 
now  in  another  —  but  oftenest  in  the  library. 
She  had  noticed  occasionally  that  his  ex- 
pression was  fretful  and  impatient  when  he 
looked  round  at  her  from  an  open  cabinet  or 
Cupboard  and   gave  his  orders;  and  she  in- 


NO  NAME.  , 


241 


ferred  that  something  iu  connection  with  his 
papers  and  possessions — it  might  or  might  not 
be  the  Secret  Trust  —  irritated  and  annoyed 
hira  from  time  to  time.  She  had  heard  him 
more  than  once  lock  something  up  in  one 
of  the  rooms  —  come  out  and  go  into  another 
room — wait  there  a  few  minutes — then  return 
^o  the  first  room,  with  his  kejs  in  his  hand  — 
and  sharply  turn  the  locks,  and  turn  them 
again.  This  fidgety  anxiety  about  his  keys 
and  his  cupboards  might  be  the  result  of  the 
inbred  restlessness  of  his  disposition,  aggra- 
vated in  a  naturally  active  man  by  the  aim- 
less indolence  of  a  life  in  retirement  —  a  life 
drifting  backward  and  forward  among  trifies, 
with  no  regular  employment  to  steady  it  at 
any  giV'Cn  hour  of  the  day.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  was  just  as  probable  that  these  com- 
ings and  goings,  these  lockings  and  unlock- 
ings,  might  be  attributable  to  the  existence  of 
some  private  responsibility  which  had  unex- 
pectedly intruded  itself  into  the  old  man's 
easy  existence,  and  which  tormented  him 
with  a  sense  of  oppression  new  to  the  ex- 
perience of  his  later  years.  Either  one  of 
these  interpretations  might  explain  his  con- 
duct as  reasonably  and  as  probably  as  the 
other.  Which  was  the  right  interpretation 
of  the  two,  it  was,  in  Magdalen's  position, 
impossible  to  say. 

The  one  certain  discovery  at  which  she 
arrived  was  made  in  her  first  day's  obser- 
vation of  him.  The  admiral  was  a  rigidly 
careful  man  with  his  keys. 

All  the  smaller  keys  he  kept  on  a  ring 
in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat.  The  larger 
he  locked  up  together  —  generally,  but  not 
always,  in  one  of  the  drawers  of  the  library- 
table.  Sometimes  he  left  them  secured  in  this 
way  at  night ;  sometimes  he  took  them  up  to 
the  bedroom  with  him  in  a  little  basket.  He 
had  no  regular  times  for  leaving  them  or  for 
taking  them  away  with  him;  he  had  no  dis- 
coverable reason  for  now  securing  them  in 
the  library- table  drawer,  and  now  again 
locking  them  up  in  some  other  place.  The 
inveterate  wilfulness  and  caprice  of  nis  pro- 
ceedings in  these  particulars  defied  every 
efl'brt  to  reduce  them  to  a  system,  and  bafHed 
all  attempts  at  calculating  on  them  before- 
hand. 

The  hope  of  gaining  positive  infiirmation  to 
act  on,  by  laying  artful  snares  for  him  which 
he  might  fall  into  in  his  talk,  proved,  from  the 
outset,  to  be  utterly  futile. 

In  Magdalen's  situation  all  experiments  of 
this  sort  would  have  been  in  the  last  degree 
difficult  and  dangerous  with  any  man.  With 
the  admiral  they  were  simply  impossible.  His 
tendency  to  veer  about  from  one  subject  to 
another ;  his  habit  of  keeping  his  tongue  per- 
petually going  so  long  as  there  was  anybody, 
no  matter  whom,  within  regtch  of  the  sound  of 
his  voice ;  his  comical  want  of  all  dignity  and 
reserve  with  his  servants  promised,  in  appear- 
ance, much,  and  performed,  in  reality,  noth- 


ing.  No  matter  how  diffidently  or  how 
respectfully  Magdalen  might  presume  on  her 
master's  example,  and  on  her  master's  evi- 
dent liking  for  her,  the  old  man  instantly 
discovered  the  advance  she'was  making  from 
her  proper  position,  and  instantly  put  her 
back  in  it  again,  with  a^ibint  good  humor 
which  inflicted  no  pain,  but  with  a  blunt 
straightforwardness  of  purpose  which  per- 
mitted no  escape.  ContSedictory  as  it  may 
sound.  Admiral  Bartram  was  too  familiar  to 
be  approached  ;  he  kept  the  distance  between 
himself  and  his  servant  more  efl^ectually  than 
if  he  had  been  the  proudest  man  in  England. 
The  systematic  reserve  of  a  superior  toward 

an  inferior  may  be  occasionally  overcome 

the  systematic  familiarity,  never. 

Slowly  the  time  dragged  on.  The  fourth 
week  came,  and  Magdalen  had  made  no  new 
discoveries.  The  prospect  was  depressing  in 
the  last  degree.  Even  in  the  apparently 
hopeless  event  of  her  devising  a  means  of 
getting  at  tho  admiral's  keys,  she  could  not 
count  on  retaining  possession  of  them  un- 
suspected more  than  a  few  hours  —  hours 
which  might  be  utterly  wasted  through  her 
not  knowing  in  what  direction  to  begin  the 
search.  The  Trust  might  be  locked  up  in  any 
one  of  some  twenty  receptacles  for  papers, 
situated  in  four  different  rooms ;  and  which 
room  was  the  likeliest  to  look  in*  which 
receptacle  was  the  most  promising  to  befin 
with,  which  position,  among  othej-  heaps  of 
papers,  the  one  paper  needful  might  be  ex- 
pected to  occupy,  was  more  than  she  could  say. 
Hemmed  in  by  immeasurable  uncertainties  on 
every  side — condemned,  as  it  were,  to  wander 
blindfold  on  the  very  brink  of  success  —  she 
waited  for  the  chance  that  never  came,  for 
the  event  that  never  happened,  with  a  pa- 
tience which  was  sinking  already  into  the 
patience  of  despair. 

Night  after  night  she  looked  back  over  the 
vanished  days,  and  not  an  event  rose  on  her 
memory  to  distinguish  them  one  from  the 
other.  The  only  interruptions  to  the  weary 
uniformity  of  the  life  at  St.  Crux  were  caused 
by  the  characteristic  delinquencies  of  old  Ma- 
zey  and  the  dogs. 

At  certain  intervals  the  original  wildness 
broke  out  in  the  natures  of,  Brutus  and  Ca.s- 
.sius.  The  modest  comforts  of  home,  the  savory 
charms  of  made  -  dishes,  the  decorous  joy  of 
digestions  accomplished  on  hearth -rugs,'lost 
all  their  attractions,  and  the  dogs  ungratefully 
left  the  house  to  seek  dissipation  and  adven- 
ture in  the  outer  world.  On  these  occasions 
the  established  after-dinner  formula  of  ques- 
tion and  answer  between  old  Mazey  and  his 
master  varied  a  little  in  one  particular.  "  God 
bless  th  •.  t^ueen,  Mazey,"  and  "how  's  the 
wind,  Mazey';*"  were  followed  by  a  new  in- 
quiry :  "  Where  are  the  dogs,  Mazey  ?"  "  Out 
on  the  loose,  your  honor,  and  be  damned  to 
'em,"  was  th«  veteran's  unvarying  answer. 
The  admiral  always  sighed,  and  shook  his  head 


242 


No  NAME. 


orravely  at  the  news,  as  if  Brutus  and  Cassius 
!ml  been  sons  of  his  own,  who  treated  him 
with  a  want  of  proper  filial  respect. ,   In  two 
or  three  days  time  the  dogs  always  returned, 
lean,  dirty,  and  liiaartily  ashamed  of  them- 
selves.    For  the  Vbble  of  the  next  day  they 
were  invariably  tied  up  in  disgrace.     On  the 
day  after  they  werB ^scrubbed  clean,  and  were 
formally  readmittea  to  the  dining-room.  There  ; 
Civilization,  acting  through  the  subtle  medium  i 
of  the  Saucepan,  recovered  its  hold  on  them,  j 
and  the  admiral's  two  prodigal  sons,  when  they  ! 
.saw  the  covct-s  removed,  watered  at  the  mouth  j 
as  copiously  as  ever. 

Old  Mazey,  in  liis  way,  proved  to  be  just  as 
disreputably  inclined  on  certain  occasions  as 
the  dogs.     At  intervals,  the  original  wildness 
in  Kis  nature  broke  out :  he,  too,  lost  all  relish 
for  the  comforts  of  home,  and  ungratefully  left 
the   house.'    He   usually  disappeared   in    the 
afternoon,  and  returned  at  night  as  drunk  as 
liquor  could  make  him.     He  was  by  many  de- 
<rrees  too  seasoned  a  vessel  to  meet- with  any 
disasters  on  these  occasions.     His  wicked  old 
legs  jnight  take  roundabout  methods  of  pro- 
•rression,  but  they  never  failed  him ;  his  wicked 
old  eyes  might  see  double,  but  they  always  j 
showed  him  the  way  home.     Try  as  hard  as  | 
they  miglit,  the  servants  could  never  succeed  | 
in   persuading   him  that  he  was  drunk:   he  I 
always  sPorned  the  imputation.     He  even  de-  j 
clined  to  admit  the  idea  privately  into  his  j 
mind  until  he  had  first  tested  his  condition  by  | 
an  infallible  criterion  of  his  own.  I 

It  was  his  habit  in  these  cases  of  Bacchana-  ! 
lian  emergency  to  stagger  obstinately  into  his 
room  on  tlie  ground-floor  —  to  take  the  model 
ship  out  of  the  cupboard  —  and  to  try  if  he  ! 
could  proceed  with  the  n over-to-be-completed  ; 
employment  of  setting  up  the  rigging.  „  When 
he  had  smashed  the  tiny  spars  and  snapped  j 
asunder  the  delicate  ropes — then,  and  not  till  , 
then,  the  veteran  admitted  facts  as  they  were,  j 
on  the  authority  of  practical  evidence.     •'  Ay !  j 
ay  !"  he  used  to  say  confidentially  to  himself  | 
"  The  women  are  right.     Drunk  again,  Mazey  ■ 
—  drunk  again  !"     Having  reached  this  dis-  ' 
covery,  it  was  his  habit  to  wait  cunningly  in 
the  lower  regions  uutil  the  admiral  was  safe  ; 
in  his  room,  and  then  to  ascend,  in  discreet 
list  slippers,  to  his  post.     Too  wary  to  attempt 
^retttfng  into  the  truckle-bed  (whicj)  would  have  ] 
been  only  inviting  the  catastrophe  of  a  fall 
asiainst  his  master's  door),  he  always  walked 
hfmself  sober  up  and  down  the  passage.    More 
than  once  Magdalen  had  peeped  round  the 
screen,  and  had  seen  the  old  sailor  unsteadily 
keeping  his  watch,  and  fancying  himself  once 
more  at  his  duty  on  board  ship.     "  This  is  an 
uncommonly  lively  vessel  in  a  sea-way,''  he 
used  to  mutter  under  his  breath,  when  his  legs 
took  him  down  the  passage  in  *:igzag  direc- 
tions, or  left  him,  for  the  moment,  studying 
the  "  Pints  of  the  Compass"  on  his  own  sys- 
tem, with  his  back  against  the  wall.    "  A  nasty 
ni«^ht,mind  you,"  he  would  maunder  on,  taking 


another  turn.  "  As  dark  as  your  pocket,  and 
the  wind  heading  us  again  from  the  old  quar- 
ter." On  the  next  day,  old  Mazey,  like  the 
dogs,  was  kept  down  stairs  in  disgrace.  On 
the  day  after,  like  the  dogs  ^gain,  he  was  re- 
instated in  his  privileges,  and  another  change 
was  introduced  in  the  after-dinner  formula. 
On  entering  the  room  the  old  sailor  stopped 
short  and  made  his  excuses  in  this  brief  yet 
comprehensive  form  of  words,  with  his  back 
against  the  door  :  "  Please  your  honor,  I  'm 
ashamed  of  myself."  So  the  apology  began 
and  ended.  "  This  mustn't  happen  again, 
Mazey,"  the  admiral  used  to  answer.  "It 
shan't  happen  again,  your  honor."  "  Very 
good.  Come  here  and  drink  your  glass  of 
wine.  God  bless  the  Queen,  Mazey."  The 
veteran  tossed  off  his  port,  and  the  dialogue 
ended  as  usual. 

So  the  days  passed,  with  no  incidents  more 
important  than  these  to  relieve  their  monoto- 
ny, until  the  end  of  the  fourth  week  was  at 
hand. 

On  the  last  day  an  event  happened ;  on  the 
last  day  the  long  -  deferred  promise  of  the  fu- 
ture unexpectedly  began  to  dawn.  While 
Magdalen  was  spreading  the  cloth  in  the 
dinfng-room  as  usual,  Mrs.  Drake  looked  in, 
and  instructed  her  on  this  occa.sion,  for  the 
first  time,  to  lay  the  table  tor  two  persons. 
The  admiral  hadjreceived  a  letter  from  his 
nephew.  Early  that  evening  Mr.  George 
Barti-am  was  expected  to  return  to  St.  Crux. 


CHAPTER  III. 

After  placing  the  second  cover,  Magdalen 
awaited  the  ringing  of  the  dinner-bell  with  an 
interest  and  impatience  which  she  found  it  no 
easy  task  to  cohceal.  The  return  of  Mr. 
Bartram  would,  in  .all  probability,  produce  a 
change  in  the  life  of  the  house,  and  from 
change  of  any  kind,  no  matter  how  trifling, 
something  might  be  hoped.  The  nephew 
might  be  accessible  to  influences  which  had 
failed  to  I'cach  the  uncle.  In  any  case  the 
two  would  talk  of  their  afl'airs  over  their  din- 
ner, and  through  that  talk  —  proceeding  day 
after  day  in  her  presence — the  way  to  discov- 
ery, now  absolutely  invisible,  might,  sooner  or 
later,  show  itself 

At  last  the  bell  rang,  the  door  opened, 
and  the  two  gentlemen  entered-  the  room  to- 
gether. 

Magdalen  was  struck,  as  her  sister  had  been 
struck,  by  George  Bartram's  resemblance  to 
her  father — ^judging  by  the  portrait  at  Combe- 
Raven,  which  presented  the  likeness  of  An- 
drew Vanstone  in  his  younger  days.  The 
light  hair  and  florid  complexion,  the  bright 
blue  eyes  and  hardy,  upright  figure,  familiar 
to  her  in  the  picture,  were  all  recalled  to  her 
memory  a*  the  nephew   followed  the  uncle 


NO  NAMK 


243 


across  the  room  and  took  his  pla<'e  at  tabU'.  comes  tu  ;m  tn(i  on  the  third  of  May,  and 
She  was  not  prepared  for  this  sudden  revival  >  there  you  sit  as  if  you  had  years  still  befors 
of  the  lost  associations  of  home.  .  Her  atten-    you  to  turn  round  in.'" 


tion  wandered  as  she  tried  to  conceal  its  effect 
on  her ;  and  she  made  a  blunder  in  waiting 
at  table,  for  the  first  time  since  she  had  en- 
tered the  house. 


George  smiled,  and  resignedly  helped  him- 
self to  some  wine. 

•'Am  I  really  to  understand.  Sir,"  he  asked, 
"  that  you  are  serious  in  what  you  said  to  me 


A  quaint  reprimand  from  the  admiral,  half  ]  last  November  ?  Are  you  actually  resolved 
in  jest,  half  in  earnest,  gave  her  time  to  re-  to  bind  me  to  that  incompreheji  "ble  condi- 
cover  herself     She  ventured  another  look  at  :  tion  V" 

Georf^e  Bartram.     The  imjjression  which  he        "1  don't  call  it  incomprehensible,"  said  the 
produced  on  her  this  time  roused  her  curiosity  i  admiral,  irritably.,     • 

immediately.  His  face  and  manner  plainly  ;  "Don't  you,  Sir?  I  am  to  inherit  your 
expressed  anxiety  and  preoccupation  of  mind.  I  estate,  unconditionally,  as  you  have  gener- 
He  looked  oftener  at  his  plate  than  at  his  i  ously  settled  it  from  the  first.  But  I  am  not 
uncle;  and  at  Magdalen  herself — except  one  I  to  touch  a  farthing  of  the  fortune  poor  Noel 
passing  inspection  of  the  new  parlor-maid  left  you  unless  I  am  married  within  a  certain 
when  the  admiral  spoke  to  her  —  he  never  j-  time.  The  house  and  lands  are  to  be  mine 
looked  at  all.  Some  uncertainty  was  evident-  j  (thanks  to  your  kindness)  under  any  circum- 
ly  troubling  his  thoughts ;  some  oppression  i  stances.  But  the  money  with  which  I  might 
was  weighing  on  his  natural  freedom  of  man-  i  improve  them  both  is  to  be  arbitrarily  taken 
What'uncertainty  V  what  oppression  ?  !  away  from  me  if  I  am  not  a  married  man  on 

I  am  sadly  wanting  in  in- 
say,  but  a  more  incompre- 


Would  any  personal  revelations  come  out,  lit-  i  the  third  of  May. 
tie  by  little,  in  the  course  of  conversation  at  I  telligence,  I  dare 


the  dinner-table  V 

No.  One  set  of  dishes  followed  another  set 
of  dishes,  and  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a  per- 
sonal revelation  took  place.  The  conversa- 
tion halted  on  irregularly,  between  public 
affairs  on  one  side  and  triffing  private  topics 


hensible  proceeding  I  never  heard  of." 

"  No  snapping  and  snarling,  George  !     Say 

your  say  out.     We  don't  understand  sneering 

in  Her  Majesty's  Navy  I" 

"  I  mean  no  offense,  Sir.     But  I  think  it  's 

a  little  hard  to  astohish  me  by  a  change  of 


on  the  other.      Politics,   home  and    foreign,    proceeding  on  your  part  entirely  foreign  to 


took  their  turn  with  the  small  household  hi 
tory  of  St.  Crux :  the  leaders  of  the  revolu- 
tion which  expelled  Louis  Philippe  from  the 
throne  of  France  marched  side  by  side  in  the 
dinner-table  review  with  old  Mazey  and  the 
dogs.  The  dessert  was  put  on  the  table ;  the 
old  sailor  came  in  —  drank  his  loyal  toast  — 
paid  his  respects  to  "  Master  George  "  —  and 


ray  e  ">erie)i('e  of  your  character,  and  then, 
when  X  naturally  ask  for  an  explanation,  to 
turn  round  coolly  and  leave  me  in  the  dark. 
If  you  and  Noel  came  to  some  private  arrange- 
ment together  before  he  made  his  will,  why 
not  tell  me  ?  Why  set  up  a  mystery  between 
us  where  no  mystery  need  be  ?" 

"  I  won't  have  it,  George  !"  cried  the  admi- 


went  out  again.     Magdalen  followed  him,  on  !  ral,  angrily  drumming  on  the  table  ^ith  the 

nut-crackers.  "  You  are  trying  to  draw  me 
like  a  badger,  but  I  won't  be  drawn  !  I  '11 
make  any  conditions  I  please ;  and  I  '11  be 
accountable  to  nobody  for  them  unless  I  like. 
It 's  quite  bad  enough  to  have  worries  and 
responsibilities  kid  on  my  unlucky  shoulders 
that  1  never  bargained  for — never  mind  what 
worries :  they  're  not  yours,  they  're  mine  — 
without  being  questioned  and  cross-questioned 
as  if  I  was  "a  witness  in  a  box.  Here  's  a 
pretty  fellow !"  continued  the  admiral,  apos- 
trophizing his  nephew  in  red-hot  irritation, 
and  addressing  himself  to  the  dogs  on  the 
hearth-rug  for  want  of  a  better  audience. 
"  Here  's  a  pretty  fellow  !  He  is  asked  to 
help  himself  to  two  uncommonly  conjfortable 
things  in  their  way  —  a  fortune  and  a  wife  — 
he  is  allowed  six  months  to  get  the  wife  in 
(we  should  have  got  her  in  the  Navy,  bag  and 
baggage,  in  si.x  days)  —  he  has  a  round  dozen 
of  nice  girls,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  in  one 
part  of  the  country  and  another,  all  at  his 
disposal  to  choose  from  —  and  what  does  he 
do .''  He  sits  month  after  month  with  his  lazy 
legs  crossed  before  him ;  he  leaves  the  girls  to 
pine  on  the  stem ;  and  he  bothers  his  ancle  to 


her  way  back  to  the  servants'  offices,  having 
heard  nothing  in  the  conversation  of  the 
slightest  importance  to  the  furtherance  of  her 
own  design,  from  the  first  word  of  it  to  the 
last.  She  struggled  hard  not  to  lose  heart 
and  hope  on  the  first  day.  They  could  hard- 
ly talk  again  to-morrow,  they  could  hardly 
talk  again  the  next  day,  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution and  the  dogs.  Time  might  do  wonders 
yet ;  and  Time  was  all  her  own. 

Lefl  together  over  their  wine,  the  uncle  and 
nephew  drew  their  easy-chairs  on  either  side 
of  the  fii*e,  and,  in  Magdalen's  absence,  began 
the  very  conversation  which  it  was  Magda- 
len's interest  to  hear. 

"  Claret,  George  ?"  said  the  admiral,  push- 
ing the  bottle  across  the  table.  "  You  look 
out  of  spirits." 

"  I  am  a  little  anxious,  Sir,"  replied  George, 
leaving  his  glass  empty,  and  looking  straight 
into  the  fire. 

"  I  am  glad  to  bear  it,"  rejoined  thg  admi- 
ral. "  I  am  more  than  a  little  anxious  myself, 
I  can  tell  you.  Here  we  are  at  the  last  days 
of  March  —  and  nothincr  done  ?     Your  time 


244 


NO  NAME. 


know  the  reason  why !  I  pity  the  poor  unfor- 
tunate women  !  Men  were  made  of  flesh  and 
blood  —  and  plenty  of  it,  too  —  in  my  time. 
They  're  made  of  machinery  now." 

"  I  can  only  repeat,  Sir,  T  am  sorry  to  have 
oifended  you,"  said  George. 

"Pooh!  pooh!  you  needn't  look  at  me'in 
that  languishing  way  if  you  are,"  retorted 
the  admiral.  "  Stick  to  your  wine,  and  I  '11 
forgive  you.  Your  good  health,  George.  I  'm 
glad  to  see  you  again  at  St.  Crux.  Look  at 
that  plateful  of  sponge-cakes  !  The  cook  has 
sent  them  up  in  honor  of  jour  return.  We 
can't  hurt  her  feelings,  and  we  can't  spoil 
our  wine.  Here  !"  The  admiral  tossed  four 
sponge-cakes  in  quick  succession  down  the 
accommodating  throats  of  the  dogs.  "  I  'm 
sorry,  George,"  the  old  gentleman  gravely 
proceeded  —  "  I  'm  really  sorry  you  haven't 
got  your  eye  on  one  of  those  nice  girls.  You 
don't  know  what  a  loss  you  're  inflicting  on 
yourself — you  don't  know  what  trouble  and 
mortification  you  're  causing  me  —  by  this 
shilly-shally  conduct  of  yours." 

"  If  you  would  only  allow  me  to  explain 
myself,  Sir,  you  would  view  my  conduct  in  a 
totally  different  light.  I  am  ready  to  marry 
to-morrow,  if  the  lady  will  have  me." 

"  The  devil  you  are  !  So  you  have  got  a  ! 
lady  in  your  eye  after  all  V  Why  in  Heaven's  ! 
name  couldn't  you  tell  me  so  before  ?  Never 
mind  —  I  '11  forgive  you  everything  now  I 
know  you  have  laid  your  hand  on  a  wife. 
Fill  your  glass  again.  Plere's  her  health  in  a 
bumper.     By  the  by,  who  is  she  ?" 

''  1  '11  tell  you  directly,   admiral.     When  I 
we  began  this  conversation,  I  mentioned  that 
I  was  a  little  anxious — " 

"  Sh»  's  not  one  of  my  round  dozen  of  nice 
girls — aha.  Master  George,  I  see  that  in  your 
I'ace  already !     Why  are  you  anxious  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  disapprove  of  my 
choice,  Sir." 

"  Don't  beat  about  the  bush !  How  the 
deuce  can  I  say  whether  I  disapprove  or  not 
if  you  won't  tell  me  who  she  is  ?" 

"  She  is   the   eldest   daughter  of  Andrew 
Vanstone  of  Combe-Raven." 
"Who!!!" 

"  Miss  Va'nstoue,  Sii*." 
The  admiral  put  down  his'  glass  of  wine 
untasted. 

"  You  're  right,  George,"  he  said.  "  I  do 
disapprove  of  your  choice  —  strongly  disap- 
prove of  it." 

"  Is  it  the  misfortune  of  her  birth,  Sir,  that 
you  object  to  ?" 

"  God  forbid  !  the  misfortune  of  her  birth 
is  not  her  fault,  poor  thing.     You  know  as 
well  as  I  do,  George,  what  I  object  to." 
"  You  object  to  her  sister  ?" 
**  Certainly  !     The  most  liberal  man  alive 
might  object  to  her  sister,  I  think." 

"It  's  hard,' Sir,  to  make  Miss ' Vanstone 
suffer  for  her  sister's  faults." 
"  Fatdts,  do  you  call  them  ?    Yqu  have  a 


mighty  convenient  memory,  George,  where 
your  own  interests  are  concerned." 

"  Call  them  crimes,  if  you  like,  Sir  —  I  say 
again,  it  's  hard  on  ]\Iis9  Vanstone.  Miss 
Vanstone's  life  is  pure  of  all  reproach.  From 
first  to  last  she  has  borne  her  hard  lot  with 
such  patience,  and  sweetness,  and  courage  as 
not  one  woman  in  a  thousand  would  have 
shown  in  her  place.  Ask  Miss  Garth,  who 
has  known  her  from  childhood.  Ask  Mrs. 
Tyrrel,  who  blesses  the  day  when  she  came 
into  the  house — " 

'•  Ask  a  fiddlestick's  end  !  I  beg  your  par- 
don, George  —  but  you  are  enough  to  try  the 
patience  of  a  saint.  My  good  fellow,  I  don't 
deny  Miss  Vanstone's  virtues ;  I  '11  admit,  if 
you  like,  she  's  the  best  woman  that  ever  put 
on  a  petticoat.  That  is  not  the  question — ''' 
"  Excuse  me,  admiral  —  it  hi  the  question, 
if  she  is  to  be  my  wife." 

"  Hear  me  out,  George ;  look  at  it  from  my 
point  of  view  as  well  as  your  own.  What 
did  your  cousin  Noel  do  ?  Your  cousin  Noel 
fell  a  victim,  poor  fellow,  to  one  of  the  vilest 
conspiracies  I  ever  heard  of;  and  the  prime 
mover  of  that  conhj)iracy  was  Miss  Vanstone'8 
damnable  sister.  She  deceived  him  in  the 
most  infamous  manner  ;  and  as  soon  as  she 
was  .down  for  a  handsome  legacy  in  his  will 
she  had  the  poisOn  ready  to  take  his  life. 
That  is  the  truth  —  we  know  it  from  Ml*s. 
Lecount,  who  found  the  bottle  lotrked  up  in 
her  own  room.  If  you  marry  Miss  A''anstone. 
you  make  this  wretc.h  your  sister-in-law.  She 
becomes  a  member  of  our  family.  All  the 
disgrace  of  what  tAw  has  don*; ;  all  the  dis- 
grace of  what  she  mai/  do  —  and  the  Devil 
who  possesses  her  only  knows  what  lengths 
she  may  go  to  next  —  becomes  our  disgrace. 
Good  Heavens,  George,  consider  what  a  posi- 
tion that  is !  Consider  what  pitch  you  touch 
if  you  make  this  woman  your  sister-in-law." 

"  You  have  put  your  side  of  the  question, 
admiral,"  said  George,  resolutely ;  "  now  let 
me  put  mine.  A  certain  impression  is  pro- 
duced on  me  by  a  young  lady,  whom  I  meet 
with  under  A'ery  interesting  circumstances. 
I  don't  act  headlong  on  that  impression,  as  I 
might  have  done  if  I  had  been  some  years 
younger  —  I  wait  and  put  it  to  the  trial. 
Every  time  I  see  this  young  lady  the  impres- 
sion strengthens — her  beauty  grows  on  me, 
her  character  grows  on  me ;  when  I  am  away 
from  her  I  am  restless  and  diss^isfied  ;  when 
I  am  with  her  I  am  the  happiest  man  alive. 
All  I  hear  of  her  conduct  from  tho^e  who 
know  her  best  more  than  confirms  the  high 
opinion  I  have  formed  of  her.  The  one  draw- 
back I  can  discover  is  caused  by  a  misfortune 
for  which  she  is  not  responsible  —  the  misfor- 
tune of  having  a  sister  who  is  utterly  un- 
worthy of  her.  Does  this  discovery  —  an 
unpleasant  discovery,  I  grant  you  —  destroy 
all  those  good  qualities  in  Miss  Vanstone  for 
which  I  love  and  admire  her?  Nothing  of 
the  sort — it  only  makes  her  good  qualities 


NO  NAAIE. 


245 


all  the  more  precious  to  me  by  contrast.  If 
I  am  to  have  a  drawback  to  contend  with  — 
and  who  expects  anything  else  in  this  world  ? 
I  would  infinitely  rather  have  the  drawback 
attached  to  my  wife's  sister  than  to  my  wife. 
My  wife's  sister  is  not  essential  to  my  happi- 
ness, but  my  wife  is.  In  my  opinion,  Sir,  Mrs. 
Noel  Vanstone  has  done  mischief  enough  al- 
ready—  I^  don't  see  the  necessity  of  letting 
her  do  more  mischief  by  depriving  me  of  a 
good  wife.  Right  or  wrong,  that  is  my  point 
of  view.  I  don't  wish  to  trouble  you  witli 
any  cpiestions  of  sentiment.  All  I  wish  to 
say  is,  that  T  am  old  enough  by  this  time  to 
know  myi  own  mind,  j\nd  that  my  mind  is 
made  up.  If  my  marriage  is  essential  to  the 
e.\ecution  of  your  intentioiLs  on  my  behalf, 
there  is  only  one  woman  in  the  world  whom 
1  can  marry  —  and  that  woman  is  Miss  Van- 
stone." 

There  was  no  resisting  this  plain  declara- 
tion. Admiral  Bartram  rose  from  his  ohair 
without  making  any  reply,  and  walked  )>er- 
turbedly  uj)  and  down  the  room. 

The  situation  was  emphatically  a  serions 
one.  Mrs.  Girdlestone's  death  had  already 
produced  the  failure  of  one  of  the  two  objects 
contemplated  by  the  Secret  Trust.  If  the 
third  of  May  arrived  and  found  George  a 
single  man,  the  second  (and  last)  of  the  ob- 
jects would  then  have  failed  in  its  turn.  In 
little  more  than  a  fortnight  at  the  very  latest 
the  Bans  must  be  published  in  Ossory  church 

—  or  the  time  would  fail  for  compliance  with 
one  of  tlie  stipulations  insisted  on  in  the 
Trust.  Obstinate  as  the  admiral  was  by  na- 
ture, strongly  as  he  felt  the  objections  which 
attached  to  his  nephew's  contemplated  al- 
liance, he  lecoiled,  in  spite  of  himself,  as  he 
paced  the  room  and  saw  the  facts,  on  either 
side,  immovably  staring  him  in  the  face. 

"Are  you  engaged  to  Miss  Vanstone  V"  he 
asked,  suddenly. 

"  No,  Sir,"  replied  George.  "  1  thought  it 
due  to  your  uniform  kindness  to  me  to  speak 
to  you  on  the  subject  first." 

'•  Much  obliged,  I  'm  sure.  And  you  have 
put  oflT  speaking  to  me  to  the  last  moment, 
just  as  you  put  off  everything  else.  Do  you 
think  Miss  Vanstone  #ill  say  Yes  when  you 
ask  her  V" 

George  hesitated. 

"  The  devil  take  youi-  modesty  I "  shouted 
the  admiral.    "  This  is  not  a  time  for  ^podesty 

—  this  is  a  time  for  speaking  out.  Will  she 
or  won't  she  ?" 

"  I  think  she  will.  Sir." 

The  admiral  laughed  sardonically,  and  took 
another  turn  in  the  room.  He  suddenly  stop- 
ped, put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  stood 
still  in  a  corner  deep  in  thought.  After  an 
interval  of  a  few  minutes  his  face  cleared,  a 
little :  it  brightened  with  the  dawning  of  a 
new  idea.  He  walked  round  briskly  to 
(fcorgo's  side'of  the  fire,  and  laid  his  hand 
kindly  on  his  nephew's  shoulder. 


"  You  're  wrpng,  George,"  he  said  ;  "  but  it 
is  too  late  iww  to  set  you  right.  On  the  six- 
teenth of  next  month  the  Bans  must  be  put 
up  in  Ossory  church,  or  you  will  lose  the 
money.  Have  you  told  Miss  Vanstone  the 
position  you  stand  in  ?  Or  have  you  put 
that  off  to  the  eleventh  hour,  like  everything 
else  ?" 

'•  The  position  is  so  extraordinary,  Sir,  and 
it  might  lead  to  so  much  misapprehension  of 
my  motives,  that  I  have  felt  unwilling  to  al- 
lude to  it.  I  hardly  know  how  I  can  tell  her 
of-  it  at  all."  ^ 

"  Try  the  experiment  of  telling  her  friends. 
Let  them  know  it  's  a  question  of  money,  and 
they  will  overcome  her  scruples,  if  you  can't. 
But  that  is  not  what  I  had  to  say  to  you. 
How  long  do  you  propose  stopping  hei-e  this 
time  y 

"  I  thought  of  staying  a  few  days,  and 
then  —  " 

"  And  then  of  going  back  to  London  and 
making  your  oft'er,  I  suppose  V  Will  a  week 
give  you  time  eiiough  to  pick  your  opportuni- 
ty with  Miss  Vanstone  —  a  week  out  of  the 
fortnight  or  so  that  you  have  to  spare  V" 

"  I  will  stay  here  a  week,  admiral,  with 
pleasure,  if  \ou  wish  it." 

"  1  don't  wish  it.  I  want  you  to  pack  up 
your  traps  and  be  off  to-morrow." 

(ieorge  looked  at  his  uncle  in  silent  aston- 
ishment. 

"  You  found  some  letters  waiting  for  you 
when  you  got  here,"  proceeded  the  admiral. 
"  Was  one  of  those  letters  from  my  old  friend. 
Sir  Franklin  Brock  V" 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  Was  it  an  invitation  to  you  to  go  and  stay 
at  the  Grange  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  To  go  at  once  ?" 

"  At  once,  if  I  could  manage  it." 

"  Very  good.  I  want  you  to  manage  it. 
I  want  you  to  start  for  tlie  Grange  to-mor- 
row." 

George  looked  back  at  tlie  fire,  and  sighed 
impatiently. 

•'  I  understand  you  now,  admiral,"  he  said. 
"  You  are  entirely  mistaken  in  me.  My  at- 
tachment to  Miss  Vanstone  is  not  to  be  .shaken 
in  that  manner." 

Admiral  Bartram  took  his  quarter-deck 
walk  again  uj)  and  down  the  room. 

"One  good  turn  deserves  another,  George," 
said  the  old  gentleman.  "  If  I  am  willing  to 
make  con(;essiona  on  my  side,  the  least  you 
can  do  is  to  meet  me  half-way,  and  make  con- 
cessions on  yours." 

"  I  don't  deny  it,  Sir." 

"  Very  well.  Now  listen  to  my  proposal. 
Give  me  a  fair  hearing,  George  —  a  fair  hear- 
ing is  every  man's  privilege.  I  will  be  per- 
fectly just  to  begin  with.  I  won't  attempt  to 
deny  that  you  honestly  believe  Miss  Vanstone 
is  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  can  make 
you  happy.     I  don't  question  that.     Wliat  I 


246 


Nt)  NAMK. 


do  question  is,  whether  you  really  know  your 
own  mind  in  this  matter  quite  so  well  as  you 
1  liink  you  know  it  yourself.  You  can't  deny. 
<i'i'orge,  that  you  have  been  in  love  with  a 
■rood  many  women  in  your  time?  Among 
t  he  rest  of  them,  you  have  been  in  love  with 
>Miss  Brock.  No  longer  ago  than  this  time 
lust  year  there  was  a  sneaking  kinaness  be- 
tween you  and  that  young  lady,  to  say  the 
least  of  it.  And  quite  right,  too !  Miss  Brock 
is  one  of  that  round  dozen  of  darlings  I  men- 
tioned over  our  first  glass  of  wine." 

"  You  are  confusing  an  idle  flirtation,  Sir, 
with  a  serious  attcH-hment,"  said  George. 
"  You  are  altogether  mistaken  —  vou  are,  in- 
deed.'; 

"  Likely  enough ;  I  don't  pretend  to  be  in- 
i'allible  —  I  leave  that  to  my  juniors.     But  I 
liappen  to  have  known  you,   George,  since  | 
\ou  were  the  height  of  my  old  telescope,  and 
1  want  to  have   this  serious  attachment  of 
yours  put  to  the  test.     If  you  can  satisfy  me 
that  your  whole  heart  and  soul  are  as  strongly 
set  on  Miss  Vanstone  as  you  suppose  them  to  ! 
be,  I  must  knock  under  to  necessity,  and  keep 
my  objections  to  myself     But  I  rnust  be  satis- 
lied  first.     Go  to  the  Grange  to-morrow,  and 
stay  there  a  week  in  Miss  Brock's  society, 
(rive  that  charming  girl  a  fair  chance  of  light- 
ing up  the  old  flame  again  if  she  fan,  and 
I  hen  come  back  to  St.  Crux,  and  let  me  hear 
t  he  result.     If  you  tell  me  as  an  honest  man 
that  your  attachment  to  Miss  Vanstone  still 
i-emains  unshaken,  you  will  have  heard  the 
last  of    my    objections   from    that    moment.  ; 
Whatever  misgivings  I  may  feel  in  my  own  I 
iuind,  I  will  say  nothing  and  do  nothing  ad- 
verse to  your  wishes.     There  is  my  proposal.  | 
r  dare  say  it  looks  like  an  old  man's  folly  in  | 
your  eyes.     But  the  old  man  won't  trouble 
you  much  longer.  George  —  and  it  may  be  a  j 
pleasant  reflection,  when  you  have  got  sons  ; 
of  your  own,  to  remember  that  you  humored  I 
liim  in  his  last  days." 

He  came  back  to  the  fireplace  as  he  said 
I  hose  words,  and  laid  his  hand  once  more  on  j 
Jiis  nephew's  shoulder.    George  took  the  hand  j 
and  pressed  it  affectionately.     In  the  tender- 1 
est  and  best  sense  of  the  word  'his  uncle  had 
been  a  father  to  him. 

"  I  will  do  what  you  ask  me,  Sir,"  he  re- 
])lied,  "if  you  really  wish  it.  But  it  is  only 
right  to  tell  you  that  the  experiment  will  be 
perfectly  useless.  However,  if  you  prefer  my 
uassing  the  week  at  the  Grange  to  my  passing 
it  here,  to  the  Grange  I  will  go." 

"Thank  you,  George,"  said  the  admiral, 
bluntly.  "  I  expected  as  much  from  you,  and 
you  have  not  disappointed  me.  If  Miss  Brock 
.doesn't  get  us  out  of  this  mess,"  thought  the 
wily  old  gentleman  as  he  resumed  his  place  at 
the  table,  "  my  nephew's  weathercock  of  a 
bead  has  turned  steady  with  a  vengeance ! 
We  '11  consider  the  question  settled  for  to- 
night, George,"  he  continued  aloud,  "  and  call 
another  subject.   These  family  anxieties  don't 


improve  the  flavor  of  my  old  claret.  The 
bottle  stands  with  you.  "What  are  they  doing 
at  the  theatres  in  London  '?  We  always  pat- 
ronized the  theatres  in  my  time  in  the  Navy. 
We  used  to  like  a  good  tragedy  to  begin  with, 
and  a  hornpipe  to  cheer  us  up  at  the  end  of 
the  entertainment." 

For  the  rest  of  the  evening  the  talk  flowed 
in  the  ordinary  channels.  Admiral  Bartram 
only  returned  to  the  forbidden  subject  when 
he  and  his  nephew  parted  for  the  night. 
*'  You  won't  forget  to-morrow,  George." 
"  Certainly  not.  Sir.  I  '11  take  the  dog-cart 
and  drive  myself  over  after  breakfast." 

Before  noon  the  next  day  Mr.  George  Bar- 
tram  had  left  the  house,  and  the  last  chance 
in  Magdalen's  favor  had  left  it  with  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

^Vhen  the  servants'  dinner-bell  at  St.  Crux 
rang  as  usual  on  the  day  of  George  Bartram's 
departure,  it  was  remarked  that  the  new  par- 
lor-maid's place  at  table  remained  empty. 
One  of  the  inferior  servants  was  sent  to  her 
room  to  make  inquirie;s,  and  returned  with 
the  information  that  "  Louisa "  felt  a  little 
faint,  and  begged  that  her  attendance  at  table 
might  be  excused  for  that  day.  Upon  this  the 
superior  authority  of  the  housekeeper  was 
invoked,  and  Mrs. .  Drake  went  up  stairs  im- 
fliediately  to  ascertain  the  truth  for  herself. 
Her  first  look  of  inquiry  satisfied  her  that  the 
parlor-maid's  indisposition,  whatever  the  cause 
of  it  might  be,  was  certainly  not  assumed  to 
serve  any  idle  or  sullen  purpose  of  her  own. 
She  respeetfitlly  declined  taking  any  of  the 
remedies  which  the  housekeeper  offered,  and 
merely  requested  permission  to  try  the  eflicacy 
of  a  walk  in  the  fresh  air. 

"  I  have  been  accustomed  to  more  exercise, 
ma'am,  than  I  take  here,"  she  said.  "  Might 
I  go  into  the  garden  and  try  what  the  air  will 
do  for  me  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Can  you  walk  by  yourself  V 
or  shall  I  send  some  one  with  you  ?" 

"  I  will  go  by  myself  if  you  please,  ma'am." 

"  Very  well.  Put  on  your  bonnet  and 
shawl,  and  when  you  get  out  keep  in  the  east 
garden.  The  admiral  sometimes  walks  in  the 
north  garden,  and  he  might  feel  surprised  at 
[  seeing  you  there.  Come  to  my  room  when 
!  you  have  had  air  and  exercise  enough,  and 
I  let  me  see  how  you  are." 
!  In  a  few  minutes  more  Magd^en  was  out 
I  in  the  east  garden.  The  sky  was  clear  and 
I  sunny,  but  the  cold  shtidow  of  the  house  rest- 
i  ed  on  the  garden-walk  and  chilled  the  mid- 
'  day  air.  She  walked  toward  the  ruins  of  the 
!  old  monastery,  situated  on  the  south  side  of 
I  the  more  modern  range  of  buildings.  Here 
j  there  were  lonely  open  spaces  to  breathe  in 
I  freely ;  here  the  pale  March  sunshine  stole 


NO  NAilB, 


24: 


through  the  gaps  of  desolatiou  and  decay,  and 
met  her  invitingly  with  the  genial  promise  of 
spring. 

She  ascended  three  or  four  riven  stone 
steps,  and  seated  herself  on  some  ruined  frag- 
ments beyond  them,  full  in  tlje  sunshine.  The 
place  she  had  chosen  had  once  been  the  en- 
trance to  the  church.  In  centuries  long  gone 
by  the  stream  of  human  sin  and  human  suffer- 
ing had  flowed,  day  after  day,  to  the  confes- 
sional over  the  place  where  she  now  sat.  Of 
all  the  miserable  women  who  had  trodden 
those  old  stones  in  the  by-gone  time,  no  more 
miserable  creature  had  touched  them  than  the 
woman  whose  feet  rested  on  them  now. 

Her  hands* trembled  as  she  placed  them  on 
either  side  of  her  to  support  herself  on  the 
stone  seat.  She  laid  them  on  her  lap — they 
trembled  there.  She  held  them  out,  and 
looked  at  them  wonderingly  —  they  trembled 
as  she  looked.  ''  Like  an  old  woman  I"  she 
said,  faintly,  and  let  them  drop  again  at  her 
side. 

For  the  first  time  that  morning  the  cruel 
discovery  had  forced  itself  on  her  mind — the' 
discovery  that  her  strength  was  failing  her  at 
the  time  when  she  had  most  confidently  trust- 
ed to  it*  at  the  time  when  she  wanted  it  most. 
She  had  felt  the  surprise  of  Mr.  Bartram's 
unexpected  departure  as  if  it  had  been  the 
shock  of  the  severest  calamity  that  could  have 
befallen  her.  That  one  check  to  her  hopes — 
a  check  which  at  other  times  would  only  have 
roused  the  resisting  power  in  her  to  new  ef- 
forts —  had  struck  her  with  as  suflbcating  a 
terror,  had  prostrated  her  with  as  all-master- 
ing a  despair,  as  if  she  had  been  overwhelmed 
by  the  crowning  disaster  of  expulsion  from 
St,  Crux.  But  one  warning  could  be  read  in 
such  a  change  as  this.  Into  the  space  of  little 
more  tlian  a  year  she  had  crowded  the  wear- 
ing and  wasting  emotions  of  a  life.  The 
bountiful  gifts  of  health  and  stre-ngth,  so  prod- 
igally lieaped  on  her  by  Nature,  so  long 
ruiused  with  impunitv,  were  failing  her  at 
last. 

She  looked  up  at  the  far  faint  blue  of  the 
sky.  She  heard  the  joyous  singing  of  birds 
among  the  ivy  that  clothed  the  ruirfs.  Oh,  the 
cold  distance  of  the  heavens  !  Oh,  the  pitiless 
hapjuncssof  the  bii-dsl  Oh,  the  lonely  horror 
of  sitting  there,  and  feeling  old  and  weak  and 
worn  in  tiie  heyday  of  her  youth  !  She  rose 
with  a  last  eflprt  of  resolution,  and  tried  to 
keep  back  tht'  hysterical  passion  swelling  at 
her  heart  by  moving  and  looking  abqut  her. 
Rapidly  and  more  vapidly  she  walked  to  and 
fro  in  the  sunshine.  The  exercise  helped  her 
through  the  very  fatigue  that  she  felt  from  it. 
She  forced  the  rising  tears  desperately  back 
to  their  sources — she  fought  with  the  dinging 
pain,  and  wrenched  it  from  its  hold.  Little 
by  little  her  mind  began  to  clear  again ;  the 
despairing  fear  of  herself  grow  less  vividly 
present  to  her  thoughts.  There  were  reserves 
of  vonth  and  stnMigth  in  her  still  to  be  wasted 


— there  was  a  spirit,  sorely  wounded,  but  not 
yet  subdued. 

She  gradually  extended  the  limits  6f  her 
walk;  she  gradually  recovered  the  exercise  of 
her  observation. 

At  the  western  extremity  the  remains  of 
the  monastery  were  in  a  less  ruinous  condi- 
tion than  at  the  eastern.  In  certain  place>, 
where  the  stout  old  walls  still  stood,  repairs 
had  been  made  at  some  former  time.  Kools 
of  red  tile  had  been  laid  roughly  over  four  of 
the  ancient  cells;  wooden  doors  had  boeu 
added  ;  and  the  old  monastic  chambers  had 
been  used  as  sheds  to  hold  the  multifarious 
lumber  of  St.  CrUx.  No  padlocks  guardfd 
any  of  the  doors.  Magdalen  had  only  to  push 
them  to  let  the  daylight  in  on  the  litter  inside. 
She  resolved  to  investigate  the  sheds  one  after 
the  other  —  not  from  curiosity,  not  with  the 
idea  of  making  discoveries  of  any  sort.  IL-r 
only  object  was  to  fill  up  the  vacant  time,  an<l 
to  keep  the  thoughts  that  unnerved  her  from 
returning  to  her  mind. 

The  first  fehed  she  opened  contained  tho 
gardener's  utensils,  large  and  small.  Tin- 
second  was  Jittered  with  fragments  of  broken 
fui'uiture,  empty  picture-frames  of  worm-eaten 
wood,  shattered  vases,  boxes  without  covei-, 
and  books  torn  from  their  bindings.  As  Mag- 
dalen turned  to  leave  the  shed,  afler  one 
careless  glance  round  her  at  the  lumber  thar 
it  contained,  her  foot  struck  something  on  the 
ground  which  tinkled  against  a  fragment  ol' 
china  lying  near  it.  She  stooped,  and  dis- 
covered that  the  tinkling  substance  was  :: 
rusty  key. 

She  picked  up  the  .key  and  looked  at  it. 
She  walked  out  into  the  air  and  considered  a 
little.  More  old  forgotten  keys  were  probably 
lying  about  among  the  lumber  in  the  sheds.. 
What  if  she  collected  all  she  could  find,  and 
tried  them,  one  after  another,  in  the  locks  oT 
the  cabinets  and  cupboards  now  closed  againsi 
her  ?  Was  there  chance  enough  tiiat  any  out- 
of  them  might  fit  to  justify  her  in  venturing  o)i 
the  experiment?  If  the  locks  at  St.  Crux 
were  as  old-fashioned  as  the  furniture  —  il 
there  were  no  protective  niceties  of  modern 
invention  to  contend  against  —  there  was 
chance  enough  beyond  all  question.  Who 
could  say  whether  the  very  key  in  her  hami 
might  not  be  the  lost  duplicate  of  one  of  the 
keys  on  the  admiral's  bunch  ?  In  the  dearth 
of  all  other  means  of  finding  the  way  to  her 
end  the  risk  was  worth  running.  A  flash  ot 
thp  old  spirit  sparkled  in  her  weary  eyes  it- 
she  turned  and  re-entered  the  shed. 

Half  an  hour  more  brought  her  to  tin- 
limits  of  the  time  which  she  could  venture  to 
allow  hei-seff  in  the  open  air.  In  that  inter- 
val she  had  searched  the  sheds  from  first  to 
last,  and  had  found  five  more  keys.  "  Fivr 
more  chances !"  she  thought  to  herself,  a.s 
she  hid  the  keys  aijd  hastily  returned  to  the 
house.  * 

After  first  reporting  herself  in  the  house- 


us 


NO  NAME. 


keeper's  room,  she  went  up  stairs  to  remove 
her  bonnet  and  shawl,  taking  that  opportunity 
to  hide  the  keys  in  her  bedchamber  until 
night  came.  They  were  crusted  thick  with 
rust  and  dirt ;  but  she  dared  not  attempt  to 
clean  them  until  bedtime  secluded  her  from 
the  prying  eyes  of  the  servants  in  the  solitude 
of  her  room. 

AVhen  the  dinner  -  hour  brought  her,  as 
usual,  into  personal  contact  with  the  admiral, 
she  was  at  once  struck  by  a  change  in  him. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  experience  the  old 
gentleman  was  silent  and  depressed.  He  ate 
fels  than  usual,  and  he  hardly  said  five  words 
to  her  from  the  beginning  of  the  meal  to  the 
end.  Some  unwelcome  subject  of  reflection 
had  evidently  fixed  itself  on  his  mind,  and 
remained  there  persistently  in  spite  of  his 
eflbrts  to  shake  it  off.  At  intervals  through 
the  evening  she  wondered  with  an  evergrow- 
ing perplexity  what  the  subject  could  be. 

At  last  the  lagging  hours  reached  their 
end,  and  bedtime  came.  Before  she  slept  that 
night  Magdalen  had  cleaned  the  keys  from 
all  impurities,  and  had  oiled  the  wards  to  help 
them  smoothly  into  the  locks.  The  last  diffi- 
culty that  remained  was  the  difficulty  of  choos- 
ing the  time  when  the  experiment  might  be 
tried  with  the  least  risk  of  interruption  and 
discovery.  After  carefully  considering  the 
question  overnight,  Magdalen  could  only  re- 
solve to  wait  and  be  guided  by  the  events  of 
the  next  day.  The  morning  came,  and  for 
the  first  time  at  St.  Crux  events  justified  the 
trust  she  had  placed  in  them.  The  morning 
came,  and  the  one  remaining  difficulty  that 
perplexed  her  was  unexpectedly  smoothed 
away  by  no  less  a  person  than  the  admiral 
himself!  To  the  surprise  of  every  one  in  the 
house,  he  announced  at  breakfast  that  he  had 
arranged  to  start  for  London  in  an  hour ;  that 
he  should  pass  the  night  in  town  ;  and  that  he 
might  be  expected  to  return  to  St.  Crux  in 
time  for  dinner  on  the  next  day.  He  volun- 
teered no  further  explanations  to  the  housfe- 
keeper  or  to  any  one  else  ;  but  it  was  easy  to 
see  that  his  errand  to  London  was  of  no  or- 
dinar\-  importance  in  his  own  estimation.  He 
swallowed  liis  breakfast  in  a  violent  hurry, 
and  he  was  impatiently  ready  for  the  carriage 
before  it  came  to  the  door. 

Experience  had  taught  Magdalen  to  be  cau- 
tious. She  waited  a  little  after  Admiral  Bar- 
tram's  departure  before  she  ventured  on  trying 
her  experiment  with  the  keys.  It  was  well 
she  did  so.  Mrs.  Drake  took  advantage  of  the 
admiral's  absence  to  review  the  condition  of 
the  apartments  on  the  first  floor.  The  results 
of  the  investigation  by  no  means  satisfied  her ; 
brooms  and  dusters  were  set  to  work,  and  the 
housemaids  were  in  and  out  of  the  rooms  per- 
petually as  long  as  the  daylight  lasted. 

The  evening  passed,  and  still  the  safe  op- 
portunity for  which  Magdalen  was  on  the 
watch  never  presented  its'elf.  Bedtime  came 
again,  and  found  her  placed  between  the  two 


alternatives  of  trusting  to  the  doubtful  chances 
of  the  next  morning  or  of  trying  the  keys 
boldly  in  the  dead  of  night.  In  former  times 
she  would  have  made  her  choice  without  hesi- 
tation. She  hesitated  now ;  but  the  wreck  of 
her  old  courage  still  sustained  her,  and  she 
determined  to  make  the  venture  at  night. 

They  kept  early  hours  at  St.  Crux.  If  she 
waited  in  her  room  until  half-past  eleven  she 
would  wait  long  enough.  At  that  time  she 
stole  out  on  the  staircase,  with  the  keys  in  her 
pocket  and  the  candle  in  her  hand. 

On  passing  the  entrance  to  the  corridor  on 
the  bedroom  floor  she  stopped  and  listened. 
No  sound  of  snoring,  no  shuffling  of  infirm 
footsteps,  was  to  be  heard  on  the  other  side  of 
the  screen.  She  looked  round  it  distrustfully. 
The  stone  passage  was  a  solitude,  and  the 
truckle-bed  was  empty.  Her  own  eyes  had 
shown  her  old  Mazey  on  his  way  to  the  upper 
regions  more  than  an  hour  since  with  a  candle 
in  his  hand.  Had  he  taken  advantage  of  his 
master's  absence  to  enjoy  the  unaccustomed 
luxury  of  sleeping  in  a  room  ?  As  the  thought 
occurred  to  her  a  sound  from  the  farther  end 
of  the  corridor  just  caught  her  ear.  She 
softly  advanced  toward  it,  and  heard  through 
the  door  of  the  last  and  remotest  of  the  spare, 
bedchambers  the  Teterau's  lusty  snoring  in  the 
room  inside.  The  discovery  was  startling  in' 
more  senses  than  one.  It  deepened  the  im- 
penetrable mystery  of  the  truckle-bed,  for  it 
showed  plainly  that  old  Mazey  had  no  bar- 
barous preference  of  hi«  own  for  passing  his 
nights  ^n  the  corridor  —  he  occupied  that 
strange  and  comfortless  sleeping-place  purely 
and  entirely  on  his  master's  account. 

It  was  no  time  for  dwelling  on  the  reflec- 
tions which  this  conc-lusion  might  suggest. 
Magdalen  retraced  her  steps  along  the  pas- 
sage, and  descended  to  the  first  floor.  Pass- 
ing the  doors  nearest  to  her,  she  tried  the 
library  first.  On  the  staircase  and  in  the  cor- 
ridors she  had  felt  her  heart  thi-obbing  fast 
with  an  unutterable  fear ;  but  a  sense  of  secu- 
rity returned  to  her  when  she  found  herself 
within  the  lour  walls  of  the  room,  and  when. 
she  had  closed  the  door  on  the  ghostly  quiet 
outside.  * 

The  first  lock  she  tried  was  the  lock  of  the 
table  -  drawer.  None  of  the  key.s  fitted  it. 
Her  next  experiment  was  made  on  the  cabi- 
net. Would  the  second  attempt  fail  like  the 
first  ?  No  I  One  of  the  keys  fitted  ;  one  of 
the  keys,  with  a  little  patient  *nanagement, 
turned  the  lock.  She  looked  in  eagerly. 
There  were  open  shelves  above,  and  one  long 
drawer  under  them.  The,  shelves  were  de- 
voted to  specimens  of  curious  minerals,  neatly 
labelled  and  arranged.  The  drawer  was  di- 
vided into  compartments.  Two  of  the  com- 
partments contained  papers.  In  the  first  she 
discovered  nothing  but  a  collection  of  receipt- 
ed bills.  In  the  second  she  found  a  heap  of 
business-documents  —  but  the  writing,  yellow 
with  age,  was  enough  of  itself  to  warn  her  that 


NO  NAME. 


249 


the  Trust  was  not  there.  She  shut  the  doors 
of  the  cabinet ;  and,  after  locking  them  again 
•with  some  little  difficulty,  proceeded  to  try  the 
keys  in  the  bookcase  cupboards  next,  before 
*she  continued  her  investigations  in  the  other 
rooms. 

The  bookcase  cupboards  were  unassailable; 
the  drawers  and  cupboards  in  all  the  oth^er 
rooms  were  unassailable.  One  after  another 
tihe  tried  them  patiently  in  regular  succession. 
It  was  useless.  The  chance  which  the  cabi- 
net in  the  library  had  offered  in  her  favor  was 
the  first  chance  and  the  last. 

She  went  b&ck  to  her  room,  seeing  nothing 
but  her  own  gliding  shadow,  hearing  nothing 
but  her  own  stealthy  footfall  in  the  midnight 
stillness  of  the  house.  After  mechanically 
putting  the  keys  away  in  their  former  hiding- 
place  she  looked  toward  her  bed — and  turned 
away  from  it  shuddering.  The  warning  re- 
membrance of  what  she  had  suffered  that 
morning  in  the  garden  was  vividly  present 
to  her  mind.  "Another  chance  trfed,"  she 
thought  to  herself,  "  and  another  chance  lost! 
I  shall  break  down  again  if  I  think  of  it,  and 
I  shall  think  of  it  if  I  l^e  awake  in  the  dark." 
She  had  brought  a  work -box  with  her  to  St. 
Crux,  as  One  of  the  many  little  things  which, 
in  her  character  of  a  servant,  it  was  desirable 
to  possess ;  and  she  now  opened  the  box  and 
applied  herself  resolutely  to  work.  Her  want 
of  dexterity  with  her  needle  assisted  the  ob- 
ject she  had  in  view  :  it  obliged  her  to  pay  the 
closest  attention  to  her  employment;  it  forced 
her  thoughts  away  from  the  two  subjects  of  all 
others  which  she  now  dreaded  most  —  herself 
and  the  future. 

The  next  day,  as  he  had  arranged,  the  ad- 
miral returned.  His  visit  to  London  had  not 
improved  his  spirits.  The  shadow  of  some 
unconquerable  doubt  still  clouded  his  face, 
and  his  restless  tongue  was  strangely  quiet 
while  Magdalen  waited  on  him  at  his  solitary 
meal.  That  night  the  snoring  resounded  once 
more  on  the  inner  side  of  the  screen,  and  old 
Mazey  was  back  again  in  the  comfortless 
truckle-bed. 

Three  more  days  passed — April  came.  On 
the  second  of  the  month  —  returning  as  unex- 
pectedly as  he  had  departed  a  week  before  — 
Mr.  George  Bartram  reappeared  at  St.  Crux. 

He  came  back  early  in  the  afternoon,  and 
had  an  interview  with  his  uncle  in  the  library. 
The  interview  over,  he  left  the  house  again, 
and  was  driven  to  the  railway  by  the  groom 
in  time  to  catch  the  last  train  to  London  that 
night.  The  groom  noticed  on  the  road  that 
"  Mr.  George  seemed  to  be  rather  pleased 
than  otherwise  at  leaving  St.  Cruic."  He 
also  remarked,  on  his  return,  that  the  admiral 
swore  at  him  for  overdriving  the  horses  —  an 
indication  of  ill-temper  on  the  part  of  his  mas- 
ter which  he  described  as  being  entirely  with- 
out precedent  in  all  his  former  experience. 
Magdalen,  in  her  department  of  service,  had 
suffered  in  like  manner  under  the  old  man's 
32 


irritable  humor  r  he  had  been  dissatisfied  with 
everything  she  did  in  the  dining-room ;  and 
he  had  found  fault  with  all  the  dishes,  one 
atlter  another,  from  the  yiutton  broth  to  the 
toasted  cheese. 

The  next  two  days  passed  as  usual.  On 
the  third  day  an  event  happened.  In  appear- 
ance, it  was  nothing  more  important  than  a 
ring  at  the  drawing-room  bell.  In  reality,  it 
was  the  forerunner  of  approac^hing  catastrophe 
— the  formidable  herald  of  the  end.- 

It  was  Magdalen's  business  to  answer  the 
bell.  On  reaching  the  drawing-room  door 
she  knocked  as  usual.  There  was  no  reply. 
After  again*  knocking,  and  again  receiving  no 
answer,  she  ventured  into  the  room,  and  was 
instantly  met  by  a  current  of  cold  air  flowing 
full  on  her  face.  The  heavy  sliding-door  in 
the  opposite  wall  was  pushed  back,  and  the 
Arctic  atmosjihere  of  Freeze-your-Bones  was 
pouring  unhindered  into  the  empty  room. 
.  She  waited  near  the  door,  doubtful  what  to 
do  next;  it  was  certainly  the  drawing-room 
bell  that  had  rung,  and  no  other.  She  wait- 
ed, looking  through  the  open  door-way  oppo- 
site, down  the  wilderness  of  the  dismantled 
hall. 

A  little  consideration  satisfied  her  that  it 
would  be  best  to  go  down  stairs  again,  and 
wait  there  for  a  second  summons  from  the  bell. 
On  turning  to  leave  the  room  she  happened 
to  look  back  once  more,  and  exactly  at  that 
moment  she  saw  the  door  open  at  the  opposite 
extremity  of  the  Banqueting-hall — the  door 
leading  into-the  first  of  the  apartments  in  the 
east  wing.  A  tall  man  came  out,  wearing  his 
great-coat  and  his  hat,  and  raj)idly  approach- 
ed the  drawing-room.  His  gait  betrayed  him 
while  he  was  still  too  far  off  for  his  features  to 
be  seen.  Before  he  was  half-way  across  the 
hall,  Magdalen  had  recognized  —  Admiral 
Bai'tram. 

The  admiral  looked,  not  irritated  only, 
but  surprised  as  well,  ai  finding  his  parlor- 
maid waiting  for  him  in  the  drawing-room. 
He  inquired,  sharply  and  suspiciously,  what 
she  wanted  there  ?  Magdalen  replied  that 
she  had  come  there  to  answer  the  bell.  His 
face  cleared  a  little  when  he  heard  the  ex- 
planation. "  Yes,  yes ;  to  be  sure,"  he  said. 
"  I  did  ring,  and  then  I  forgot  it."  He  pulled 
the  sliding-door  back  into  its  place  as  he 
spoke.  "  Coals,"  he  resumed,  impatiently, 
pointing  to  the  empty  scuttle.*  "  I  rang  for 
coali." 

Magdalen  went  back  to  the  kitchen  re- 
gions. After  communicating  the  admiral's 
order  to  the  servant  whose  special  duty  it  was 
'to  attend  to  the  fires,  she  returned  to  the 
pantry,  and,  gently  closing  the  door,  sat  down 
alone  to  think. 

It  had  been  her  impression  in  the  drawing- 
room  —  and  it  was  her  impression  still  —  that 
she  had  accidentally  surprised  Admiral  bar- 
tram on  a  visit  to  'the  east  rooms,  which,  for 
some  urgent  reason  of  his  own,  he  wished  to 


250 


NO  NAME. 


keep  a  secret.  Haunted  day  and  night  by 
the  one  dominant  idea  that  now  possessed 
her,  she  leaped  all  logical  difficulties  at  a 
bound,  and  at  once  associated  the  suspicion 
of  a  secret  proceeding  on  the  admiral's  part 
■with  the  kindred  suspicion  which  pointed  to 
him  as  the  depositary  of  the  Secret  Trust. 
Up  to  this  time  it  had  been  her  settled  belief 
that  he  kept  all  his  important  documents  in 
one  or  other  of  the  suit  of  rooms  which  he 
happened  to  be  occupying  for  the  timer  being. 
Why  —  she  now  asked  herself,  with  a  sudden 
distrust  of  the  conclusion  which  had  hitherto 
satisfied  her  mind — -why  might  he  not  lock 
some  of  them  up  in  the  other  rooms  as  well  V 
The  remembrance  of  the  keys,  still  concealed 
in  their  hiding-place  in  her  room,  sharpened 
her  sense  of  the  reasonableness  of  this  new, 
view.  With  one  unimportant  exception,  those 
keys  had  all  failed  when  she  tried  them  in 
the  rooms  on  the  north  side  of  the  house. 
Might  they  not  succeed  with  the  cabinets  and 
cupboards  in  the  east  rooms,  on  which  she 
had  never  tried  or  thought  of  trying  them 
yet  ?  If  there  was  a  ehance^  however  small, 
of  turning  them  to  better  accotint  than  she  had 
turned  them  thus  far,  it  was  a  chance  to  be 
tried.  If  there  was  a  possibility,  however 
remote,  that  the  Trust  might  be  hidden  in 
any  one  of  the  locked  repositoi'ies  in  the  east 
wins,  it  was  a  possibility  to  be  put  to  the  test. 
I  When  V  Her  own  experience  answered  the 
question.  At  the  the  time  when  no  prying 
eyes  were  open,  and  no  accidents  were  to  be 
feared  —  when  the  house  was  quiet  —  in  the 
dead  of  night. 

She  knew  enough  of  her  changed  self  to 
dread  the  enervating  influence  of  delay.  She 
determined  to  run  the  risk,  headlong,  that 
night. 

More  blunders  escaped  her  when  dinner-time 
came  ;  the  admiral's  criticisms  on  her  waiting 
at  table  were  sharper  than  ever.  His  hardest 
words  inflicted  no  pain  on  her ;  she  scarcely 
heard  him  —  her  mind  was  dull  to  every  sense 
but  the  sense  of  the  coming  trial.  The  even- 
ing, which  had  passed  slowly  to  her  on  the 
nicht  of  her  first  experiment  with  the  keys, 
passed  quickly  now.  When  bedtime  came, 
bedtime  took  her  by  surprise. 

She  waited  longer  on  this  occasiou  than 
she  had  waited  before.  The  admiral  was  at 
home ;  he  might  alter  his  mind,  and  go  down 
stairs  again  after  he  had  gone  up  to  his  room ; 
he  might  have  forgotten  something  in  the 
library,  and  might  return  to  fetch  it.  Mid- 
night struck  from  the  clock  in  the  servants' 
hall  before  she  ventured  out  of  her  room, 
•with  the  keys  again  in  her  pocket,  with  the 
candle  again  in  her  hand. 

At  the  first  of  the  stairs  on  which  she  set 
her  foot  to  descend,  an  all-mastering  hesita- 
tion, an  unintelligible  shrinking  from  some 
perii  unknown,  seized  her  on  a  sudden.  She 
waited  and  reasoned  with  herself.  She  had 
recoiled  from  no  sacrifices,  she  had  yielded  to 


no  fears,  in  carrying  out  the  stratagem  by 
which  she  had  gained  admission  to  St.  Crux ; 
and  now,  when  the  long'  array  of  difiiculties 
at  the  outset  had  been  patiently  conquered — 
now,  when  by  sheer  force  of  resolution  the 
starting-point  was  gained,  she  hesitated  to 
advance.  ' "  I  shrank  from  nothing  to  get' 
here,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  What  madness 
possesses  me  that  I  shrink  now  ?" 

Every  pulse  in  her  quickened  at  the 
thought,  with  an  animating  shame  that  nerved 
her  to  go  on.  She  descended  the  stairs,  from 
the  third  floor  to  the  second,  from  the  second 
to  the  first,  without  trusting  herself  to  pause 
again  within  easy  reach  of  her  own  room. 
In  another  minute  she  had  reached  the  end 
of  the  corridor,  had  crossed  the  vestibule, 
and  had  entered  the  drawing-room.  It  was 
only  when  her  grasp  was  on  the  heavy  brass 
handle  of  the  sliding-door  —  it  was  only  at 
the  moment  before  she  pushed  the  door  back — 
that  she  waited  to  take  breath.  The  Ban- 
queting-hall  was  close  on  the  'other  side  of 
the  wooden  partition  against  which  she  stood: 
her  excited  imagination  felt  the  deathlike 
chill  of  it  flowing  over  her  already. 

She  pushed  back  the  sliding-door  a  few 
Inches,  and  stopped  in  momenta»y  alarm. 
When  the  admiral  had  closed  it  in  her  pres- 
ence that  day  she  had  heard  no  noise.  When 
old  Mazey  had  opened  it  to  show  her  the 
rooms  in  the  east  wing  she  had  heard  no 
noise.  Now,  in  the  night  silence,  she  noticed 
for  the  first  time  that  the  door  made  a  sound — 
a  dull,  rushing  sound,  like  the  wind. 

She  roused  herself  and  pushed  it  further 
back  —  pushed  it  half-way  into  the  hollow 
chamber  in  the  wall  constructed  to  receive  it. 
She  advanced  boldly  into  the  gap,  and  met 
the  night-view  of  the  Banqueting-hall  face 
to  face. 

The  moon  was  rounding  the  southern  aide 
of  the  house.  Her  paling  beams  sfreamed 
through  the  nearer  windows,  and  lay  in  long 
strips  of  slanting  light  on  the  marble  pave-, 
ment  of  the  hall.  The  black  shadows  of  the' 
pediments  between  each  window,  alternating 
with  the  strips  of  light,  heightened  the  wan 
glare  of  the  moonshine  on  the  stone  floor. 
Toward  its  lower  end  the  hall  melted  myste- 
riously into  darkness  ;  the  ceiling  was  lost  to 
view ;  the  yawning  fireplace,  the  overhang- 
ing mantle-piece,  the  long  row  of  battle-pic- 
tures above,  were  all  swallowed  up  in  night. 
But  one  visible  object  was  discernible  besides 
the  gleaming  windows  and  the  moon-striped 
floor.  Midway  in  the  last  and  farthest  of  the 
strips  of  light  the  tripod  rose  erect  on  its 
gaunt  black  legs,  like-  a  monster  called  to  life 
by  the  moon  —  a  monster  rising  through  the 
light,  and  melting  invisibly  into  the  upper 
shadows  of  the  hall.  Ear  and  near  all  sound 
lay  dead,  drowned  in  the  stagnant  cold.  The 
soothing  hush  of  night  was  awful  here.  The, 
deep  abysses  of  darkness  hid  abysses  of  si- 
lence more  immeasurable  still. 


J>^/ 


NO  NAME. 


251 


Slie  stood  motionless  in  the  door-way,  with 
strainintr  eyes,  with  straininj?  ears.  She 
looked  for  some  moving  thing,  she  listened  for 
some  rising  sound  —  and  looked  and  listened 
in  vain,  'a  quick,  ceaseless  shivering  ran 
througli  her  from  head  to  foot.  The  shivering 
of  fear  ?  or  the  shivering  of  cold  ?  The  bare 
doubt  roused  her  resolute  will.  "Now,"  she 
thought,  advancing  a  step  through  the  door- 
way—  "or  never!  I  'II  count  the  strips  of 
moonli'rht  three  times  over,  and  cross  the 
hall."  ^ 

"  One,  two,  three,  fqur,  five.  One,  two, 
three,  four,  five.  One,  two,  three,  four,  five." 
As  the  final  number  passed  her  lips,  at  the 
third  time  of  counling,  she  crossed  the  hall. 
Looking  for  nothing,  tistening  for  nothing  — 
one.  hand  holding  the  candle,  the  other  me- 
chanically grasping  the  folds  of  her  dress  — 
she  sped  ghostlike  down  the  length  of  the 
ghostly  place.  She  reached  the  door  of  the 
first  of  the  eastern  rooms,  opened  it,  and  ran 
in.  The  sudden  relief  of  reaching  a  refuge, 
the  sudden  entrance  into  a  new  atmosphere, 
overpowered  her  for  the  moment.  She  had 
just  time  to  put  the  candle  safely  on  a  table 
before  she  droi)ped  giddy  and  breathless  into 
the  nearest  chair. 

Little  b>'  little  she  felt  the  rest  quieting 
her.  In  a  few  minutes  she  became  conscious 
of  the  triumph  of  having  won 'her  way  to  the 
east  rooms.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  strong 
enough  to  rise  from  the  chair,  to  take  the  keys 
from  her  pocket,  and  to  look  round  her.  | 

The  first  objects  of  furniture  in  the  room 
which  attracted  her  attention  were  an  old 
bureau  of  carved  oak  and  a  heavy  buhl  table 
with  a  cabinet  attached.  She  tried  the  bureau 
first;  it  looked  the  likeliest  receptacle  for  pa- 
pers of  the,  two.  Three  of  the  keys  proved 
to  be  of  a  size  to  enter  the  lock,  but  none  of 
them  would  turn  it.  The  bureau  was  unas- 
sailable. She  left  it,  and  paused  for  a  moment 
to  trim  the  wick  of  the  candle  before  she  tried 
the  buhl  cabinet  next. 

At  the  moment  when  she  raised  her  hand 
to  the  candle  she  heard  the  stillness  of  the 
Banqueting-liall  -shudder  with  the  terror  of  a 
sound — a  sound  faint  and  momentary,  like  the 
distant  rushin^  of  the  wind. 

Had  the  sliding-door  in  the  drawing-room 
moved  ? 

Which  way  had  it  move<l  ?  Had  an  un- 
known hand  pushed  it  back  in  its  socket 
farther  than  she  had  pushed  it,  or  pulled  it  to 
again  and  clos<.'d  it?  The  horror  of  being 
shut  out  all  night  by  some  undiseoverable 
agency  from  the  life  of  the  house  was  stronger 
in  her  than  the  horror  of  looking  across  the 
Banqueting-hall.  She  made  desperately  for 
the  door  of  the  room. 

It  had  fallen  to  silently  after  her  when  she 
had  come  in,  but  it  was  not  closed.  She 
pulled  it  open — and  looked. 

The  sight  that  met  her  eyes  rooted  her, 
panic-stricken,  to  the  spot. 


Close  to  the  first  of  tBe  row  of  windows, 
counting  from  the  drawing-room,  and  full  in 
the  gleam  of  it,  she  saw  a  solitary  figure.  It 
stood  motionless,  rising  out  of  the  farthest 
strip  of  moonlight  on  the  floor.  As  she  looked 
it  suddenly  disappeared.  In  another  instant 
she  saw  it  again,  in  the  second  strip  of  moon- 
light—  lost  it  again  —  saw  it  in  the  third 
strip  —  lost  it  once  more  —  and  saw  it  in  the 
fourth.  Moment  by  moment  it  advanced,  now 
mysteriously  lost  in  the  shadow,  now  suddenly 
visible ^again  in  the  light,  until  it  reached  the 
fifth  and  nearest  strip  of  moonlight.  There 
it  paused,  and  strayed  aside  slowly  to  the 
middle  of  the  hall.  It  stopped  at  the  tripod, 
and  stood  shivering  audibly  in  the  silence, 
with  its  hands  raised  over  the  dead  ashes,  in 
the  action  of  warming  them  at  a  fire.  It 
turned  back  again,  moving  down  the  path  of 
the  moonlight — stopped  at  the  fifth  windows- 
turned  once  more  —  and  came  on  softly 
through  the  shadow,  straight  to  the  place 
where  [Magdalen  stood. 

Her  voice  was  dumb ;  her  will  was  help- 
less. Every  sense  in  her  but  the  seeing-sense 
was  paralyzed.  The  seeing-sense — held  fast 
in  the  fetters  of  its  own  terror — looked  un? 
changeably  straightforward,  as  it  had  looked 
from  the  first.  There  she  stood  in  the  door- 
way, full  in  the  path  of  the  figure  advancing 
through  the  shadow,  nearer  and  nearer,  step 
by  step. 

It  came  close. 

The  bonds  of  horror  that  held  her  burst 
asunder  when  it  was  within  arm's-length.  She 
started  back.  The  light  of  the  candle  on  the 
table  fell  full  on  its  face,  and  showed  her  — 
Admiral  Bartram. 

A  lonof  gray  dressing  -  gown  was  wrapped 
round  hmi.  His  head  was  uncovered;  his 
feet  were  bare.  In  his  left  hand  he  carried 
his  little  basket  of  keys.  He  passed  Magda- 
len slowly  ;  his  lips  whispering  without  inter- 
mission ;  his  open  eyes  staring  straight  before 
him  with  the  glassy  stare  of  death. ,  His  eyes 
revealed  to  her  the  terrifying  truth.  He  wai 
walking  in  his  sleep. 

The  terror  of  seeing  him  as  she  saw  him 
now  was  not  the  terror  she  had  felt  when  her 
eyes  first  lighted  on  him — ^an  apparition  in 
the  moonlig'ht,  a  spectre  in  the  ghostly  hall. 
This  time  she  could  struggle  against  the 
shock ;  she  could  feel  the  depth  of  her  own 
fear. 

He  passed  her,  and  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  Magdalen  ventured  near  enough 
to  him  to  be  within  reach  of  his  voice  as  he 
muttered  to  himself  She  ventured  nearer 
still,  and  heard  the  name  of  her  dead  husb^d 
fall  distinctly  from  the  sleep-wallSer's  lips. 

"  Noel !"  he  said,  in  the  low,  monotonous 
tones  of  a  dreamer  talking  in  his  sleep.  "  Mj 
good  fellow,  Noel,  take  it  back  again  !  It  wor- 
ries me  day  and  night.  I  don't  know  where 
it 's  safe;  I  don't  know  where  to  put  it.  Take 
it  back  Noel — take  it  back !" 


252 


NO  NAIVIE. 


As  those  words  escaped  bim  he  walked  to 
the  buhl  cabinet.  He  sat  down  in  the  chair 
placed  before  it,  and  searched  in  the  basket 
among  his  keys.  Magdalen  softly  followed" 
him  and  stoork  behind  his  chair,  waiting,  with 
the  candle  in  her  hand.  He  found  the  key 
and  unlocked  the  cabinet.  Without  an  in- 
stant's hesitation  he  drew  out  a  drawer,  the 
second  of  a  row.  The  one  thing  In  the  drawer 
was  a  folded  letter.  He  removed  it,  and  put 
It  down  before  him  on  the  table.  "  Take  It 
back,  Noel ! "  he  repeated,  mechanically ; 
"  take  it  back."  * 

Magdalen  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  read 
these  lines,  traced  In  her  husband's  handwrit- 
ing, at  the  top  of  the  letter:  2b  be  kept  in 
your  own  possession,  and  to  he  opened  hy  your- 
self only  on  the  day  of  my  decease.  Noel 
Vanstone.  She  saw  the  words  plainly,  with 
thp  admiral's  name  and  the  admiral's,  address 
written  under  tliem. 

The  Trust  within  reach  of  her  hand  1  The 
Trust  traced  to  its  hiding-place  at  last ! 

She  took  one  step  forward  to  steal  round 
his  chair,  and  to  snatch  the  letter  from  the 
table.  At  the  instant  when  she  moved  he 
took  it  up  once  more,  locked  the  cabinet,  and, 
rising,  turned  and  faced  her. 

In  the  Impulse  of  the  moment  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  toward  the  hand  in  which  he 
held  the  letter.  The  yellow  candle-light  fell 
full  on  him.  The  awful  death-in-llfe  of  his 
ftice  —  the  mystery  of  the  sleeping  body  mov- 
ing in  unconscious  obedience  to  the  dreaming 
mind  —  daunted  her.  'Her  hand  trembled, 
and  dropped  again  at  her  side. 

He  dropped  the  key  of  the  cabinet  into  the 
basket,  and  crossed  the  room  to  the  bureau, 
with  the  basket  in  one  hand  and  the  letter  in 
the  other.  Magdalen  put  the  candle  back  on 
the  table  and  watched  him.  As  he  had  open- 
ed the  cabinet,  so  he  now  opened  the  bureau. 
Once  more  Magdalen  stretched  out  her  hand, 
and  once  more  she  recoiled  before  the  mystery 
and  the  terror  of  his  sleep.  He  put  the  letter 
in  a  drawer  at  the  back  of  the  bureau,  and 
closed  the  heavy  oaken  lid  again.  "  Yes,"  he 
said.  "  Safer  there,  as  you  say,  Noel  —  safer 
there."  So  he  spoke.  So,  time  after  time, 
the  words  that  betrayed  him  revealed  the 
dead  man  living  and  speaking  again  in  the 
dream. 

Had  he  locked  the  bureau?  Magdalen  had 
not  heard  the  lock  turn.  As  he  slowly  moved 
away,  walking  back  once  more  toward  the 
middle  of  the  room,  she  tried  the  lid.  It  was 
locked.  That  discovery  made,  she  looked  to 
see  what  he  was  doing  next.  He  was  leaving 
the  room  again,  with  his  basket  of  keys  in  his 
hand.  When  her  first  glance  overtook  him 
he  was  crossing  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

Some  inscrutable  fascination  possessed  her; 
some  mysterious  attraction  drew  her  after  him 
in  spite  of  herself.  She  took  up  the  candle 
and  followed  him  mechanically,  as  if  she  too 
were  walking  in  her  sleep.     One  behind  the 


other,  in  slow  and  noiseless  progress,  they 
crossed  the  Banqueting' hall.  One  behind 
the  other  they  passed  through  the  drawing- 
room,  and  along  the  corridor,  and  up  the 
stall's.  She  followed  him  to  his  own  door.  He 
went  in  and  shut  it  behind  him  softly.  She 
stopped  and  looked  toward  the  truckle-bed. 
It  was  pushed  aside  at  the  foot,  some  little 
distance  away  from  the  bedroom  door.  Who 
had  moved  it  ?  She  held  the  candle  close, 
and  looked  toward  the  pillow  with  a  sudden 
curiosity  and  a  sudden  doubt. 

The  truckle-bed  was  empty. 

The  discovery  stai'tled  Hlier  for  the  moment, 
and  for  the  moment  only.  Plain  as  the  in- 
ferences were  to  be  drawn  from  it,  she  never 
drew  them.  Her  mind,  slowly  recovering  the 
exercise  of  its  faculties,  was  still  under  the 
influence  of  the  earlier  and  deeper  impres- 
sions produced  on  it.  Her  mind  followed  the 
admiral  into  his  room,  as  her  body  had  follow- 
ed him  across  tlie  Banqueting-hall. 

Had  he  laid  down  again  in  his  bed  ?  Was 
he  still  asleep  ?  She  listened  .at  the  door. 
Not  a  sound  was  audible  in  the  room.  She 
tried  the  door,  and,-  finding  it  not  locked, 
softly  opened  it  a  few  inches,  and  listened 
again.  The  rise  and  fall  of  his  low,  regular 
breathing  instantly  caught  her  ear.  He  was 
still  asleep. 

She  went  into  the  room,  and,  shading  the 
candle-light  with  her  hand,  approached  the 
bedside  to  look  at  him.  The  dream  was  past; 
the  old  man's  sleep  was  deep  and  peaceful ; 
his  lips  were  still ;  his  c^ulet  hand  was  laid 
over  the  coverlet  in  motionless  repose.  He 
lay  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  riglit- 
hand  side  of  the  bed.  A  little  table  stood 
there  within  reach  of  his  hand.  Four  objects 
were  placed  on  it — his  candle,  his  matches, 
his  customary  night-drink  of  lemonade,  and 
his  basket  of  keys. 

The  idea  of  possessing  herself  of  his  keys 
that  night  (if  an  opportunity  offered  when 
the  basket  was  not  in  his  hand)  had  first 
crossed  her  mind  when  she  saw  him  go  Into 
his  room.  She  had  lost  it  again,  for  the  \\\o- 
ment,  in  the  surprise  of  discovering  the  empty 
truckle-bed.  She  now  recovered  It  the  in- 
stant the  table  attracted  her  attention.  It 
was  useless  to  waste  time  in  trying  to  choose 
the  one  key  wanted  from  the  rest  —  the  one 
key  was  not  well  enough  known  to  her  to  be 
readily  identified.  She  took  all  the  keys 
from  the  table,  in  the  basket  as  they  lay,  and 
noiselessly  closed  the  door  behind  her  on  leav- 
ing the  room. 

The  truckle-bed,  as  she  passed  it,  obtruded 
Itself  again  on  her  attention,  and  forced  her 
to  think  of  it.  After  a  moment's  consider- 
ation she  moved  the  foot  of  the  bed  back  to 
its  customary  position  across  the  door.  Wheth- 
er he  was  Iq  the  house  or  out  of  it,  the  veter- 
an might  return  to  his  deserted  post  at  any 
moment.  If  he  saw  the  bed  moved'  from  its 
usual    place,   he    might    suspect    something 


NO  NAME. 


253 


wrong  —  he  might  rouse  his  master  —  and 
the  loss  of  the  keys  might  be  discovered.  As 
she  descended  the  stairs  the  fear  of  a  sudden 
meeting  with  old  Mazey  was  so  vividly  pres- 
ent to  her  that  she  carried  the  little  basket 
close  at  her  side,  half-hidden  in  the  folds  of 
her  dress. 

Nothing  happened  on  the  stairs;  nothing 
happened  in  the  corridor  —  the  house  was  as 
silent  and  as  solitary  as  ever.  She  crossed 
the  Banqueting-hall  this  time  without  hesita- 
tion ;  tlie  events  of  the  night  had  hardened 
her  mind  against  all  imaginary  terrors.  "  Now 
I  have  got  it!"  she  whispered  to*  herself,  in 
an  irrepressible  outburst  of  exultation  as  she 
entered  the  first  of  the  east  rocuns,  and  put 
her  caudle  on  the  top  of  the  old  bureau. 

Even  yet  there  was  a  trial  tn  store  for  her 
patience.  Some  minutes  elapsed,  minutes 
that  seemckl  hours,  before  «he  found  the  right 
key  and  raised  the  lid  of  the  bureau.  At 
last  she  drew  out  the  inner  drawer  !  At  last 
she  had  the  letter  in  her  hand  ! 

It  had  been  sealed,  but  the  seal  was  broken. 
She  opened  it  on  the  spot  to  make  sure  that 
she  had  actually  jjossessed  herself  of  the 
Trust  before  leaving  the  room.  The  end  of 
thjg  letter  was  the  first  part  of  it  she  turned 
to'.'  It  came  to  its  conclusion  high  on  the 
third  page,  and  it  was  signed  by  Noel  Van- 
stone.  Below  the  name  these  lines  were  add- 
ed in  tlie  admiral's  handwriting  : 

"  This  letter  was  received  by  me,  at  the 
same  time  with  the  will  of  my  friend,  Noel 
Vanslone.  In  tlie  event  of  my  death,  with- 
out leaviftg  any  other  directions  respecting  it, 
I  beg  my  nephew  and  my  executors  to  under- 
stand that  I  consider  the  requests  made  in 
this  document  as  absolutely  binding  on  me. 

"  AUTIIUII    EVERARD    BaRTRAM." 

She  left  those  lines  unread.  She  just  no- 
ticed that  they  were  not  in  Noel  Vanstone's 
handwriting ;  and,  p;issing  them  over  instant- 
ly, as  immaterial  to  the  object  in  view,  turned 
the  leaves  of  the  letter,  and  transferred  her 
attention  to  the  opening  sentences  on  the  first 
page. 

She  read  these  words : 

"Dkar  Admiral  Bartram — When  you 
open  my  Will  (in  which  you  are  named  my 
sole  executor),  you  will  find  that  1  have  be- 
queathed the  wliole  residue  of  my  estate  — 
after  payment  of  one  legacy  of  five  tiiousand 
pountis — to  yourself.  It  is  the  purpose  of  my 
letter  to  tell  you  privately  what  the  object  is 
for  which  I  have  left  you  the  fortune  which  is 
npw  placed  in  your  hands. 

"  I  beg  you  to  consider  this  large  legacy  as 
intended — " 

She  had  proceeded  thus  far,  with  breath- 
less curiosity  and  interest,  when  her  attention 
suddenly  failed  her.  Something — she  was  too 
deeply  absorbed  to  know  what  —  had  got  be- 
tween her  and  the  letter.     Was  it  a  sound  in 


the  Banqueting-hall  again?  She  looked  over 
her  shoulder  at  the  door  behind  her,  and  lis- 
tened. Nothing  was  to  be  heard  —  nothing 
was  to  be  seen.     She  returned  to  the  letter. 

The  writing  was  cramped  and  close.  In 
her  impatient  curiosity  to  read  more,  she  failed 
to  find  the  lost  place  again.  Her  eyes,  at- 
tracted by  a  blot,  lighted  on  a  sentence,  lower 
in  the  page  than  the  sentence  at  which  she 
Iiad  left  oft".  The  first  three  words  she  saw 
riveted  her  attention  anew  —  they  were  the 
first  words  she  had  met  with  in  the  letter 
which  directly  referred  to  Geopge  Bartram. 
In  the  sudden  excitement  of  that  vliscovery 
she  read  the  rest  of  the  sentence  eagerly  be- 
fore she  made  any  second  attempt  to  return 
to  the  lost  place  : 

"  If  your  nephew''  fails  to  comply  with  these 
conditions  —  that  is  to  say,  if,  being  either  a 
bachelor  or  a  widower  at  the  time  of  my  de- 
cease, he  fails  to  marry  in  all  respects  as  I 
have  here  instructed  him  to  marry,  within  Six 
calendar  months  from  that  time — it  is  my  de- 
sire that  he  shall  not  receive — " 

She  had  read  to  that  point,  to  that  last  woi-d, 
a-'d  no  farther — when  a  Hand  passed  sudden- 
ly from  behind  her,  between  the  letter  and  her 
eye,  and  griped  )ier  fast  by  the  wrist  in  an 
instant. 

She  turned  with  a  shriek  of  terror,  and 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  old  Mazey. 

The  veteran's  eyes  were  bloodshot;  his 
hand  was  heavy;  his  list  slippers  were  twisted 
crookedly  on  his  feet ;  and  his  body  swayed  to 
and  fro  ou  his  widely-parted  legs.  If  he  had 
tested  his  condition  that  night  by  the  unfail- 
ing criterion  of  the  model  ship,  he  must  have 
inevitably  pronounced  sentence  on  himself  ia 
the  usual  ibrm :  "  Drunk  again,  Mazey  — 
drunk  again." 

"  You  young  Jezebel !"  said  the  old  sailor, 
Avith  a  leer  on  one  side  of  his  face,  and  a  frown 
on  the  other.  "  The  next  time  you  take  to 
night-walking  in  the  neighborhood  of  Freeze- 
your-Bones  use  those  sharp  eyes  of  yours  first, 
and  make  sure  there  is  nobody  else  night- 
walking  in  the  garden  outside.  Drop  it,  Jez- 
ebel !  drop  it !" 

Keeping  fast  hold  of  Magdalen's  arm  with 
one  hand,  he  took  the  letter  from  her  with  the 
other,  put  it  back  into  the  open  drawer,  and 
locked  the  bureau.  She  never  struggled  with 
him,  she  never  spoke.  Her  energy  was  gone ; 
her  powers  of  resistance  were  crushed.  The 
terrors  of  that  horrible  night,  following  one 
close  on  the  other  in  reiterated  shocks,  had 
struck  her  down  at  last.  She  yielded  as  sub- 
missively, she  trembled  as  helplessly,  as  the 
weakest  woman  living. 

Old  Mazey  dropped  her  arm,  and  pointed 
with  drunken  solemnity  to  a  chair  in  an  inner 
corner  of  the  room.  She  sat  down,  still  with- 
out uttering  a  word.  The  veteran  (breathing 
very  hard  over  it,  steadied  himself  on  both 


254 


NO  NAME. 


■  elbows  against  the  slanting  top  of  the  bureau, 
and  from  that  commanding  position  addressed 
Magdalen  once  more. 

"  Come  and  be  locked  up  !"  said  old  Mazey, 
wagging  his  venerable  head  with  judicial  se- 
verity. "  There  '11  be  a  court  of  inquiry  to- 
morrow morning;  and  I  'm  witness  —  worse 
luck  ! — I  'm  witness.  You  young  jade,  you  've 
committed  burglary  —  that  's  what  you  've 
done.  His  honor  the  admiral's  keys  stolen ; 
his  honor  the  admiral's  desk  ransacked ;  and 
his  honor  the  admiral's  private  letters  broke 
open.  _  Burglary!  Burglary!  Come  and  be 
locked  up !"  He  slowly  recovered  an  up- 
right position  with  the  assistance  of  his  hands, 
backed  by  the  solid  resisting  power  of  the 
bureau,  and  lapsed  into  lachrymose  soliloquy. 
"  Who  'd  have  thought  it  ?"  said  old  Mazey, 
paternally  watering  at  the  eyes.  .  "  Take  the 
outside  of  her,  and  she  's  as  straight  as  a  pop- 
lar ;  take  the  inside  of  her,  and  she  's  as 
crooked  as  Sin.  Such  a  fine  grown  girl,  too. 
What  a  pity  !  what  a  pity  !" 

"  Don't  hurt  me !"  said  Magdalen  faintly, 
as  old  Mazey  staggered  up  to  the  chair  and 
took  her  by  the  wrist  again.  "  I  'm  fright- 
ened, Mr.  Mazey  —  I  'm  dreadfullv  fright- 
ened." 

"  Hurt  you  ?"  repeated  the  veteran.  ''  I  'm 
a  deal  too  fond  of  you — and  more  shame  for 
me  at  my  age  !^to  hurt  you.  If  I  let  go  of 
your  wrist,  will  you  walk  straight  before  me, 
where  I  can  see  you  all  the  way  ?  Will  you 
be  a  good  girl,  and  walk  straight  up  to  your 
own  door  ?" 

Magdalen  gave  the  promise  required  of 
her — gave  it  with  an  eager  longing  to  reach 
the  refuge  of  her  room.  She  rose  and  tried 
to  take  the  candle  from  the  bureau,  but  old 
Mazey's  cunning  hand  was  too  quick  for  her. 
"  Let  the  caudle  be,"  said  the  veteran,  wink- 
ing in  momentary  forgetfulness  of  his  respon- 
sible position.  •'  You  're  a  trifle  quicker  on 
yo«r  legs  than  I  am,  my  dear,  and  you  might 
leave  me  in  the  lurch  if  I  don't  carry  the 
light." 

They  returned  to  the  inhabited  side  of  the 
house.  Staggering  after  Magdalen,  with  the 
basket  of  keys  in  que  hand  and  the  candle  in 
the  other,  old  Mazey  sorrowfully  compared  her 
figure  with  the  straightness  of  the  poplar,  and 
her  disposition  with  the  crookedness  of  Sin, 
all  the  way  across  "  Freeze-your-Bones,"  and 
all  the  way  up  stairs  to  her  own  door.  Ar- 
rived at  that  destination,  he  peremptorily  re- 
fused to  give  her  the  candle  until  he  had  first 
seen  her  safely  inside  the  room.  The  con- 
ditions being  complied  withj  he  resigned  the 
light  with  one  hand,  and  made  a  dash  with 
the  other  at  the  key — drew  it  from  the  inside 
of  the  lock,  and  instantly  closed  the  door. 
Magdalen  heard  him  outside  chuckling  over 
his  own  dexterity,  and  fitting  the  key  into 
the  lock  again  with  infinite  difliculty.  At  last 
he  secured  the  door,  with  a  deep  grunt  of  re- 
lief.    "  There  she  is,  safe  !"  Magdalen  heard 


him  say,  in  regretful  soliloquy.  "  As  fine  a 
girl  as  ever  I  set  eyes  on.  What  a  pity! 
what  a  pity !" 

The  last  sounds  of  his  voice  died  out  in 
the  distance,  and  she  was  left  alone  in  her 
room. 

Holding  fast  by  the  baluster,  old  Mazey 
made  his  way  down  to  the  corridor  on  the 
second  floor,  in  which  a  night-lisht  was  al- 
ways burning.  He  advanced  to  the  truckle- 
bed,  and,  steadying  himself  against  the  oppo- 
site wall,  looked  at  it  attentively.  Prolonged 
contemplation  of  his  own  resting-place  for 
the  night  apparently  failed  to  satisfy  him. 
He  shook  his  head  omniously,  and,  taking  from 
the  side-pocket  of  his  great-coat  a  pair  of  old 
patched  slippers,  surveyed  them  with  an  as- 
pect of  illimitable  doubt.  "  I  'm  all  abroad 
to-night,"  he  mumbled  to  himself.  "  Troubled 
in  my  mind — that  's  what  it  is — troubled  in 
my  mind."  , 

The  old  patched  slippers  and  the  veteran's 
existing  perplexities  happened  to  be  intimate- 
ly associated,  one  with  the  other,  in  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect.  The  slippers  be- 
longed to  the  admiral,  who  had  taken  one  of 
his  unreasonable  fancies  to  this  particular 
pair,  and  who  still  persisted  in  wearing  them 
long  after  they  were  unfit  for  his  service. 
Early  that  afternoon  old  Mazey  had  taken 
the  slijapers  to  the  village  cobbler  to  get  theni 
repaired  on  the  spot  before  his  master  called 
for  them  the  next  mornings.  He  sat  superin- 
tending the  progress  and  completion  of  the 
work  until  evening  came,  when  he  and  the 
cobbler  betook  themselves  to  the  village  inh 
to  drink  each  other's  healths  at  parting.  They, 
had  prolonged  this  social  ceremony  till  far 
into  the  night;  and  they  had  parted,  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  in  a  finished  and  per- 
fect state  of  intoxication  on  either  side. 

If  the  drinking-bout  had  led  to  no  other 
result  than  those  night  wanderings  in  the 
grounds  of  St.  Crux,  which  had  sliown  old 
Mazey  the  light  in  the  east  windows,  his 
memory  would  unquestionably  have  presented 
it  to  him  the  next  morning  in  the  light  of 
one  of  the  praiseworthy  achievements  of  his 
life.  But  another  consequence  had  sprung 
from  it,  which  the  old  sailor  now  saw  dimly 
through  the  interposing  bewilderment  left  in 
his  brain  by  the  dr?nk.  He  had  committed  a 
breach  of  discipline,  and  a  breach  of  trust. 
In  plainer  words,  he  had  deserted  his  post. 

The  one  safeguard  against  Admiral  Bar- 
tram's  constitutional  tendency  to  somnambu- 
lism was  thg  watch  and  ward  which  his  faith- 
ful old  servant  kept  outside  the  door.  _  No 
entreaties  had  ever  prevailed  on  liini  to  sub- 
mit to  the  usual  precaution  taken  in  such 
cases.  He  peremptorily  declined  to  be  locked 
into  his  room;  he  even  ignored  his  own  lia- 
bility, whenever  a  dream  disturbed  him,  to 
walk  in  his  sleep.  Over  and  over  again  old 
Mazey  had  been  roused  by  his  master's  at- 


NO  NA31E. 


255 


tempts  to  push  past  the  trucklc-befl,  or  to 
step  over  it,  in  his  sleep ;  and  over  and  over 
again,  when  he  had  reported  the  fact  the 
next  morning,  the  admiral  had  declined  to 
believe  him.  As  the  old  sailor  now  stood, 
staring  in  vacant  inquiry  at  his  master's  door, 
these  incidents  of  the  past  rose  confusedly  on 


"  I  want  to  say  something  serious,"  replied 
old  Mazey,  with  impenetrable  solemnity. — 
■'  It  's  been  on  my  mind  to  come  here  and 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it  for  the  last  hour  or 
more.  Mark  my  words,  young  woman.  I  'm 
going  to  disgrace  myself." 

Magdalen  drew  turther  -and  further  back, 


bis  memory,  and  forced  on  him  the  serious  i  and  looked  at  him  in  rising  alarm, 
question  whether  the  admiral  had  left  his  i  "  I  know  my  duty  to  his  honor  the  admi- 
room  durina^  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night  ?  |  ral,"  proceeded  old  Mazey,  waving  his  hand 
Tf  by  any  mischance  the  sleep-walking  fit  had  j  drearily  in  the  direction  of  his  master's  door, 
seized  him,  the  slipi)ers  in  old  Mazey  s  hand  "But  try  as  hard  as  I  may,  I  can't  find  it 
,i)ointed  sti-ainrht  to  the  conclusion  that  fol-  in  my  heart,  you  young  jade,  to  be  witness 
lowed  — his  master  must  have  passed  barefoot  I  against  )  iu.  I  liked  the  make  of  you  (spe- 
iii  the  cold  night  over  the  stone  stairs  and  j  cially  about  the  waist)  when  you  first  came 
passages  of  St.  Crux.  "  Lord  send  he  's  been  i  into  the  house,  and  I  can't  help  liking  the 
quiet!"  muttered  old  Mazey,  daunted,  bold  j  make  of  you  still,  though  you /irtiv;  committed 
as  he  was,  and  drunk  as  he  was,  by  the  bare  !  burglary,  and  though  you  are  as  crooked  as 
contemplation  of  that  prospect.  "  If  his  hon-  'i  Sin.  I  've  cast  the  eyes  of  indulgence  on 
or  's  been  walking  to-night,  it  will  be  the  j  fine-grown  girls  all  my  life,  and  it  's  too  late 
death  oi'  him  !"  j  in  the  day  to  cast  the  eyes  of  severity  on  'em 

He  roused  himself  for  the  moment  by  main  i  now.     I  'm  seventy-seven  or  seventy-eight,  I 


force  —  strong  in  his  doglike  tidelity  to  the 
admiral,  though  strong  in  nothing  else  —  and 
fought  olT  the  stupor  of  the  drink.  lie  looked 
at  the  bed  with  steadier  eves  and  a  clearer 


don't  rightly  know  which.  I  'm  a  battered 
old  hulk,  with  my  seams  opening,  and  my 
pumps  choked,  and  the  waters  of  Death  pow- 
erinsr  in  on  me  as  fast  as  they  can.     1  'm  as 


mind.  Magdalen's  precaution  in  returning  miserable  a  sinner  as  you  '11  meet  with  any- 
it  to  its  customary  position  presented  it  to  where  irt  these  parts  —  Thomas  Nagle,  the 
him  necessarily  in  the  aspect  of  a  bed  which  !  cobbler,  only  excepted  ;  and  he  's  worse  than 
had  never  been  moved  from  its  place.  He  j  I  am,  for  he  's  the  youngest  of  the  two,  and 
next  examined  the  counterpane  carefully,  he  ought  to  know  better..  But  the  long  and 
Not  the  faintest  vestige  appeared  of  the  in-  '  the  sliort  of  it  is,  I  shall  go  down  to  my  grave 
dentation  which  ii)ust  have  been  left  by  foot-  \  with  an  eye  of  indulgence  for  a  fine-grown 
steps  passing  over  it.  There  was  the  plain  \  girl.  More  sliame  or  me,  you  young  Jezebel 
evidence   before    him  —  the  evidence   recog-  ;  —more  shame  for  me  !" 

nizable  at  last  by  his  own  bewildered  eyes —  ;  The  veteran's  unmanageable  eyes  began  to 
that  the  admiral  had  never  moved  from  his  i  leer  again  in  spite  of  him,  as  he  concluded  his 
room.  "  I  'ii  take  the  Pledge  to-morrow  !"  i  harangue  in  these  terms :  the  last  reserves  of 
mumbled  olil  Mazey,  in  an  outburst  of  grate-  \  austerity  left  in  his  face  intrenched  them- 
ful  relief.  The  ne.xt  moment  the  fumes  of;  selves  dismally  round  the  cornei's  of  his 
the- liquor  flowed  back  insidiously  over  his  i  mouth.  Magdalen  approaehed  him  again, 
brain,  and  the  veteran  returning  to  his  cus-  j  and  tried  to  speak.  He  solemnly  motioned 
tomary  remedy,  paced  the  passage  in  zigzag    her  back  again  with  another  dreary  wave  of 


as  usual,  and  kept  watch  on  the  deck  of  an 
imaginary  ship. 


his  hand. 

"No  carneying!"  said  old  Mazey;  "I  'm  bad 

enough  already  without  that.  It  's  my  duty 
Soon  after  sunrise  Magdalen  suddenly  heard  :  to  make  my  report  to  his  honor  the  admiral, 
the  grating  of  the  key  from  the  outside  in  '<  and  I  iviU  make  it.  But  if  you  like  to  give 
the  lock  of  the  door.  The  door  opened,  and  i  the  house  the  slip  before  the  burglary  's  re- 
old  Mazey  reappeared  on  the  threshold.  The  J  ported  and  the  court  of  inquiry  begins  —  I  'II 
first  fever  of  his  intoxi(;ation  had  cooled,  |  disgrace  myself  by  letting  you  go.  It  's  niar- 
with  time,  into  a  mild,  penitential  glow.  He  j  ket  morning  at  Ossory,  and  Dawkes  will  be 
breathed  liarder  than  ever,  in  a  succession  of}  driving  the  light  cart  over  in  a  (piarter  of  an 
low  growls,  and  wagged  his  venerable  head  j  hour's  time.     Dawkes  will  take  you  if  I  ask 


at  his  own  delinquencies  without  intermission, 
"  How  are  you  now,  you  young  landshark 
in  petticoats?"  inquired  the  veteran.  "Has 
your  conscience  been  quiet  enough  to  let  you 
go  to  sleep  ?" 

"  I  have  not  slept,"  said  Magdalen,  draw- 
ing back  from  him  in  doubt  of  what  he  might 
do  next.  "  I  have  no  remembrance  of  what 
happened  after  you  locked  the  door ;  I  think 
I  must  have  'ainted.    Don't  frighten  me  again, 


him.  I  know  my  duty  —  my  duty  is  to  turn 
the  key  on  you,  and  see  Dawkes  ilamned  first. 
But  I  can't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  he  hard  on 
a  fine  girl  like  you.  It  's  bred  in  the  bone, 
and  it  wunt  come  out  of  the  flesh.  More 
shame  for  me,  I  tell  you  again  —  more  shame 
for  me !" 

The  proposal  thus  strangely  and  suddenly 
presented  to  her  took  INIagdalen  completely 
by  surprise.     She  had  been  tar  too  seriously 


Mr.  Mazey  !     1  feel  miserably  weak  and  ill.  \  shaken  by  the  events  of  the  night  to  be  capa- 
What  do  you  want?"  |  ble  of  deciding  on  any  subject  at  a  moment's 


256 


NO  iNAME. 


notice.  "  You  ai'e  very  good  to  me,  Mr. 
Mazey,"  she  said.  "  May  I  have  a  minute  by 
myself  to  think  ?" 

"  Yes,  yoix  may,"  replied  the  veteran,  fac- 
ing about  forthwith  and  leaving  the  room. 
"  They  're  all  alike,"  proceeded  old  Mazey, 
with  his  head  still  running  on  the  sex. 
"  Whatever  you  offer  'em,  they  always  want 
something  more.  Tall  and  short,  native  and 
foreign,  sweethearts  and  wives  —  they  're  all 
alike !" 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  reached  her  de- 
cision with  far  less  difficulty  than  she  had 
anticipated.- 

If  she  remained  in  the  house,  there  were 
only  two  courses  before  her  —  to  charge  old 
Mazey  with  speaking  under  the  influence  of 
a  drunken  delusion,  OT  to  submit  to  circum- 
stances. Thougl)  she  owed  to  the  old  sailor 
her  defeat  in  the  very  hour  of  success,  his 
consideration  for  her  at  that  moment  forbade 
the  idea  of  defending  herself  at  his  expense 
—  even  supposing,  what  was  in  the  last  de- 
gree improbable,  that  the  defense  would  be 
credited.  In  the  second  of  the  two  cases 
(the  case  of  submission  to  circumstances)  but 
one  result  could  be  expected  —  instant  dis- 
missal, and  perhaps  discovery  as  well.  What 
object  was  to  be  gained  by  braving  that  deg- 
radatifm  —  by  leaving  the  house  publicly  dis- 
graced in  the  eyes  of  the  servants,  who  had 
hated  and  distrusted  her  from  the  first  ?  The 
accident  which  had  literally  snatched  the 
Trust  from  her  possession  when  she  had  it  in 
her  hand  was  irreparable.  The  one  apparent 
compensation  under  the  disaster  —  in  other 
words,  the  discovery  that  tlie  Trust  actually 
existed,  and  that  George  Bartram's  marriage 
■within  a.  given  time  was  one  of  the  objects 
contained  in  it  —  was  a  compensation  which 
could  only  be  estimated  at  its  true  value  by 
placing  it  under  the  light  of  Mr.  Loscombe's 
experience.  Every  motive  of  which  she  was 
conscious  ^as  a  motive  which  urged  her  to 
leave  the  house  secretly,  while  the  chance 
■was  at  her  disposal.  She  looked  out  into  the 
passage,  and  called  softly  to  old  Mazey  to 
come  back. 

"  I  accept  your  offer  thankfully,  Mr.  Ma- 
zey," she  said.  "  You  don't  know  what  hard 
measure  you  dealt  out  to  me  when  you  took 
that  letter  from  my  hand.  ■  But  you  did  your 
duty  ;  and  I  can  be  gi'ateful  to  you  for  spar- 
ing me  this  morning,  hard  as  you  were  upon 
me  last  night.  I  am  not  such  a  bad  girl  as 
you  think  me  —  I  am  not,  indeed." 

Old  Mazey  dismissed  the  subject  with  an- 
other dreary  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  Let  it  be,"  said  the  veteran  ;  "  let  it  be  ! 
It  makes  no  difference,  my  girl,  to  such  an  old 
rascal  as  I  am.     If  you  were  fitly  times  worse 


than  you  are,  I  should  let  you  go  all  the  same. 
Put   on  your  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  come 
along.     I  'm  a  disgrace  to  myself  and  a  warn- 
ing to  others  —  that  's  what  I  am.     No  lug- 
gage, mind !     Leave  all  your  rattletraps  be- 
hind you,  to  be  overhauled,  if  necessary,  at  ^ 
his  honor  the  admiral's  discretion.     I  can  be 
hard  enough  on  your  boxes,  you  young  Jeze- 
bel, if  I  can't  be  hard  on  you." 
'  With  those  words  old  Mazey  led  the  way 
out  of  the  room.     "The  less  I  see  of  her  the 
better — especially  about  the  waist,"  he  said 
to  himself  as  he  hobbled  down  stairs  with  the* 
help  of  the  balusters. 

The  cart  was  standing  in  the  back-yarJi 
when  they  reached  the  lower  regions  of  the 
house,  and  Dawkes  (otherwise  the  farm-bail- 
iff's man)  was  fastening  the  last  buckle  of  the 
horse's  harness.'  The  hoar-frost  of  the  morn- 
ing was  still  wlilte  in  the  shade.  The  spark- 
ling points  of  it  glistened  brightly  on  the 
shaggy  coats  of  Brutus  and  Casslus  as  they 
idled  about  the  yard,  waiting,  with  steaming 
mouths  and  slowly-v/agging  tails,  to  see  the 
cart  drive  off.  Old  Mazey  went  out  alone 
and  used  his  Influence  with  Dawkes,  who,, 
staring  In  stolid  amazement,  put  a  leather 
cushion  for  his  fello-^-traveller  on  the  cart- 
seat.  Shivering  In  the  sharp  morning  air, 
Magdalen  waited  while  the  preliminaries  of 
departure  were  In  progress,  conscious  of  noth- 
ing but  a  giddy  bewilderment  of  thought  and" 
a  hopeless  suspension  of  feeling.  The  events 
of  the  night  confused  themselves  hideously 
with  th(^  trivial  circumstances  passing  before 
her  eyes  in  the  court-yard.  She  started  with 
the  sudden  terror  of  the  night  when  old  Mazey 
reappeared  to  summon  her  out  to  the  cart. 
She  trembled  with  the  helpless  confusion  of 
the  night  when  the  veteran  cast  the  eyes  of 
Indulgence  on  her  for  the  last  time,  and  g&ve 
her  a  kiss  on  the  cheek  at  parting.  The  ijext 
minute  she  felt  him  help  her  into  the  cart  and 
pat  her  on  the  back.  The  next  she  heard 
him  tell  her,  in  a  confidential  whisper,  that, 
sitting'  or  standin*,  she  was  as  straight  as 
a  poplar,  either  way.  Then  there  was  a  pause, 
in  which  nothing  was  said  and  nothing  done ; 
and  then  the  driver  took  the  reins  in  hand 
and  mounted  to  his  place. 

She  roused  herself  at  the  parting  moment 
and  looked  back.  The  last  sight  she  saw  at 
St.  Crux  was  old  Mazey  wagging  his  head  in 
the  court-yard,  with  his  fellow-profligates,  the  * 
dogs,  keeping  time  to  him  with  their  tails. 
The  last  words  she  heard  were  the  words  in 
which  the  veteran  paid  his  farewell  tribute  to 
her  charms : 

"  Burglary  or  no  burglary,"  said  old  Mazey, 
"  she  's  a  fine-grown  girl,  if  ever  there  was  a 
fine  one  yet !     What  a  pity !  ■what  a  pity  !  "  \ 


THE  END  OF  THE  SEVENTH  SCENE. 


NO  NAME. 


257 


BETWEEN    THE    SCEiNES. 


KROM  OKOROB  BARTBAM  TO  ADMIRAL  BARTKAM. 

•'  London.  April  3, 1848. 

'•  My  dear  Unclk — One  hasty  line,  to 
inform  you  of  a  temporary  obstacle  which  we 
neither  of  us  anticipated  when  we  took  leave 
of  each  other  at  St.  Crux.  While  I  was  wast- 
ing the  last  days  of  the  week  at  the  Grange, 
the  Tyrrels  niu.st  have  been  making  their 
arrangements  lor  leaving  London.  1  have 
just  come  from  Portland  Place.  The  house  is 
shut  up,  and  the  family  (Miss  Vanstone,  of 
course,  included)  left  England  yesterday  to 
pj»KS  the  season  in  Paris.  i 

"  Pray  don't    let  yourself  be   annoyed  by  j 
this  little  check  at  starting.     It  is  of  no  se-  | 
rious  importance  whatever.     I  have  got  the  ! 
address  at  which  the  Tyrrels  are  living,  and  I 
mean  to  cross  the  Channel  after  them  by  the 
mail  to-night.     I  shall  find  my  opportunity  in  ^ 
Paris  just  as  soon   as  I  could  have  found  it  ; 
in  Loudon.     The  grass  shall  not  grow  under  I 
my  feet.  I  promise  you.     For  once  in  my  life  I 
I  will  take  Time  as  fiercely  by  the  forelock  as 
if  I  "was  the  most  impetuous  man  in  England ; 
and,  rely  on  it,  the  moment  I  know  the  result ' 
you  shall  know  the  result  too. 

*'  Affectionately  yours, 

"Gkorgr  Baktram." 

n. 

FROM    OnOKOS    RARTKAM    TO    MISS    OARTH. 

"  PAf  IS,  Jpril  IS.       j 

"  Dear  Mies  Garth — I  have  just  written  ! 
with  a  heavy  heart  to  my  uncle,  and  I  think  I 
I  owe  it  to  your  kind  interest  in  me  not  to  1 
omit  writing  ne.xt  to  you.  j 

"  You  will  feel  for  niy  disappointment,  I  am 
sure,   when    I   tell   you,   in   the   fewest   and  i 
plainest  words,  that  Miss  Vanstone  has  re-  | 
t'nsed  me.  ' 

"  My  vanity  may  have  grievously  misled 
me,  but  I  confess  1  e.xpected  a  very  different 
result.  My  vanity  may  be  misleading  mo  still, 
for  I  must  acknowledge  to  you  privately  that 
I  think  Miss  Vanstone  was  sorry  to  refuse  me. 
The  reason  she  gave  for  her  decision  —  no 
doubt  a  sufficient  reason  in  her  estimation  — 
did  not  at  the  time,  and  does  not  now,  seem 
sufficient  to  me.  She  spoke  in  the  sweetest 
and  kindest  manner  ;  but  she  firmly  declared 
that  '  her  family  misfortunes'  left  her  no  hon- 
orable alternative  but  to  think  of  my  own 
interests,  as  I  had  not  thought  of  them  my- 
self, and  gratefully  to  decline  accepting  my 
offer. 

"  She  was  so  painfully  agitated  th4t  I  could 
Bot   venture   to   plead   my  own  cause    as  T 

aa 


might  otherwise  have  pleaded  it.  At  the  first 
attempt  I  made  to  touch  the  personal  question 
she  entreated  me  to  spare  her,  and  abruptly 
left  the  room.  I  am  still  ignorant  whether  I 
am  to  interpret  the  'family  misfortunes' which 
have  set  up  this  barrier  between  us  as  mean- 
ing the  misfortune  for  which  her  parents 
alone  are*  to  blame,  or  the  misfortune  of  her 
having  such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone 
for  her  sister.  In  whichever  of  these  circum- 
stances the  obstacle  lie.*;,  it  is  no  obstacle  in 
my  estimation.  Can  nothing  remove  it  ?  Is 
there  no  hope  V  Forgive  me  for  as^king  these 
questions.  .  I  can  not  bear  up  against  my 
bitter  disappointment.  Neither  she  nor  you, 
nor  any  one  but  myself,  know  how  I  love 
her. 

"  Ever  most  truly  yours, 

"  George  Bartram. 
"  P-  S. — I  shall  leave  for  England  in  a.day 
or  two,  passing  through  London,  on  my  way  to 
St.  Cru.x.  There  are  family  reasons,  con- 
nected with  the  hateful  subject  of  money, 
which  make  me  look  forward  with  anything 
but  pleasure  to  my  next  interview  with  rnv 
uncle.  If  you  address  your  letter  to  Lon^^'s 
hotel  it  will  be  sure  to  reach  me." 

III. 

rROM  MISS  OARTH  TO  OKOEGE  BARTRAM. 

"  Westmorbland  nou8E,  Jpril  U. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Bartram — You  only  did  me 
justice  in  supposing  that  your  letter  would 
distress  me.  If  you  had  supposed  that  it 
would  make  me  excessively  angry  as  well, 
you  would  not  have  been  far  wrong.  I  have 
no  patience  with  the  pride  and  perversity  of 
the  young  women  of  the  present  day. 

"  I  have  heard  from  Norah.  It  is  a  long 
letter,  stating  the  particulars  in  full  detail.  I 
am  now  going  to  put  all  the  confidence  in 
your  honor  and  your  discretion  whi«h  I  really 
feel.  For  your  sake  and  for  Norah's  I  am 
going  to  let  you  know  what  the  scruple  really 
is  which  has  misled  her  into  the  pride  and 
folly  of  refusing  you.  T  am  old  enough  to 
speak  out ;  and  I  can  tell  you  if  she  had  only 
been  wise  enough  to  let  her  own  wishes  guide 
her  she  would  have  said  Yes  —  and  gladly 
too.  • 

"  The  original  cause  of  all  the  mischief  is 
no  less  a  person  than  your' worthy  uncle,  Ad- 
miral Bartram. 

"  It  seems  that  the  admiral  took  it  into  his 
head  (I  suppose  during  your  absence)  to  go  to 
London  by  himself,  and  to  satisfy  some  curi- 
osity of  his  own  about  Norah  by  calling  in 
Portland  Place  under 'pretense  of  renewing 
his  old  friendship  with  the  Tyrrels.    He  cam« 


258 


NO  NAME. 


at  luncheou-time  aud  saw  Norah,  and,  from 
all  T  can  hear,  was  apparently  better  pleased 
with  Ijer  than  he  expected  or  wished  to  be 
when  he  came  into  the  house. 

"  So  far  this  is  mei-t  guesswork ;  but  it  is 
unluckily  certain  that  he  and  Mrs.  Tyrrel  had 
some  talk  together  alone  when  luncheon  was 
over.  Your  name  was  not  mentioned;  but 
when  their  conversation  fell  on  Norah,  you 
were  in  both  their  minds,  of  course.  The 
admiral  (doing  her  full  justice  personally)  de- 
clared himself  smitten  with  pity  for  her  hard  |  plead  your  cause  for  you  at  every  opportunit) 
lot  in  life.  The  scandalous  conduct  of  her  |  I  can  find  —  wait  patiently  for  the  right  mo- 
sister  must  always  stand  (he  feared)  in  the  |  ment — and  ask  her  again.  Men,  being  accus- 
wav  of  her  future  advantage.  Who  could  tomed  to  act  on  reflection  themselves,  are  a 
marry  her  without  first  making  it  a  condition  ;  great  deal  too  apt  to  believe  that  women  act 
that  she  and  her  sister  were  to  be  absolute  i  on  reflection  too.     Women  do  nothing  of  the 


sister  which  no  strangers  can  be  expected  to 
share,  above  the  higher  claims  of  an  attach- 
ment which  might  have  secured  the  happiness 
and  the  prosperity  of  her  future  life. 

"  But  the  mischief  has  been  done.  The 
next  question  is,  can  the  harm  be  remedied  ? 

"  I  hope  and  believe  it  can.  My  advice  is 
this :  Don't  take  No  for'an  answer.  Give  her 
time  enoijgh  to  reflect  on  what  she  has  done, 
and  to  regi'et  it  (as  I  believe  she  will  regret 
it)  in  secret — trust  to  my  influence  over  her  to 


strangers  to  each  other '?  And  even  then  the 
objection  would  remain — the  serious  objection 
to  the  husband's  family  —  of  being  connected 
by  marriage  with  such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Noel 
Vanstone.  It  was  very  sad ;  it  was  not  the 
poor  girl's  fault — but  it  was  none  the  less  true 
that  her  sister  was  her  rock  ahead  in  life.  So 
he  ran  on,  with  no  real  ill-feeling  toward  No- 
rah, but  with  an  obstinate  belief  in  his  own 
prejudices  which  bore  the  aspect  of  ill-feeling, 
and  which  people  with  more  temper  than 
judgment  would  be  but  too  readily  disposed 
to  resent  accordingly. 

"  Unfortunately,  Mrs.  Tyrrel  is  one  of  those 
people.  She  is  an  excellent,  warm-hearted 
woman,  with  a  quick  temper  and  very  little 
judgment — strongly  attached  to  Norah,  and 
heartily  interested  in  Norah's  welfare.  From 
all  I  can  learn,  she  first  resented  the  expres- 
sion of  the  admiral's  opinion,  in  his  presence, 
as  wordly  and  selfish  in  the  last  degree ;  and 
then  interpreted  it  behind  his  back  as  a  hint 
to  discourage  his  nephew's  visits,  which  was  a 
downright  insult  offered  to  a  lady  in  her  own 
house.  "  This  was  fooHsh  enough  so  far,  but 
worse  folly  was  to  come. 

"  As  soon  as  your  uncle  was  gone,  Mrs.  T;yT- 
rel,  most  unwisely  and  improperly,  sent  for 
Norah,  and,  repeating  the  conversation  that 
had  taken  place,  warned  her  of  the  reception 
she  might  expect  from  the  man  who  stood  1  usually  stay  at  in  London,  hoping  that  you  may 


sort.  They  act  on  impulse ;  and  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten  they  are  heartily  sorry  for  it  after- 
ward. 

"  In  the  meanwhile  you  must  help  your  own 
interests  by  inducing  your  uncle  to  alter  his 
opinion,  or  at  least  to  make  the  concession  of 
keeping  his  opinion  to  himself  Mrs.  Tyrrel 
has  rushed  to  the  conclusion  that  the  harm  he 
has  done  he  did  intentionally,  which  is  as  much 
as  to  say,  in  so  many  words,  that  he  had  a 
prophetic  conviction,  when  he  came  into  the 
house,  of  what  she  should  do  when  he  left  it. 
My  explanation  of  the  matter  is  a  mucJi  siifi- 
pler  one.  I  believe  that  the  knowledge  of  your 
attachment  naturally  roused  his  curiosity  to 
see  the  object  of  it,  and  that  Mrs.  Tyrrel's  in- 
judicious praises  of  Norah  irritated  his  objec- 
tions into  openly  declaring  themselves.  Any 
way,  your  course  lies  eqrjally  plain  before  you. 
Use  your  influence  over  your  uncle  to  per- 
suade him  into  setting  mattei's  right  again ; 
trust  my  settled  resolution  to  see  Norah  your 
wife  before  six  months  more  are  over  our 
heads ;  a'nd  believe  me  your  friend  and  well- 
wisher.  Harriet  Garth." 

■    IV. 

.     FROM    MKS.    DRAKK    TO    Gi;oRGE    BARTRAM. 

■'St.  Crux,  April  17. 
I  direct  these  lines  to  the  hotel  you 


SlR- 


t0"stard  you  in  the  position  of  a  father,  if  she 
accepted  an  offer  of  marriage  on  your  part- 
When  I  tell  you  that  Norah's  faithful  attach- 
ment to  her  sister  still  remains  unshaken,  and 
that  there  lies  hidden  under  her  noble  sub- 
mission to  the  unhappy  circumstances  of  her 
life  a  proud  susceptibility  to  slights  of  all 
kinds,  which  is  deeply  seated  in  her  nature, 
you  will  understand  the  true  motive  of  the 
refusal  which  has  so'naturally  and  so  justly 
disappointed  you.  They  are  all  three  equally 
to  blame  iu  this  matter.  Your  uncle  was 
wrong  to  state  his  objections  as  i-oundly  and 
inconsiderately  as  he  did.  Mrs.  Tyrrel  was 
wrong  to  let  her  temper  get  the  better  of  her, 
and  to  suppose  herself  insulted  where  no  insult 
was  intended.  And  Nprah  was  wrong  to  place 
A  scruple  of  pride,  and  a  hopeless  belief  in  her 


return  soon  enough  from  foreign  parts  to  re- 
ceive my  letter  without  delay. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  thai  some  unpleasant 
events  have  taken  place  at  St.  Crux  since  you 
left  it,  and  that  my  honored  master,  the  admi- 
ral, is  far  from  enjoying  his  "usual  good  health. 
On  both  these  accounts  I  venture  to  write  to 
you  on  my  own  responsibility,  for  I  think  your 
presence  is  needed  in  the  house. , 

"  Early  in  the  month  a  most  regrettable  cir- 
cumstance took  place.  Our  new  parlor-maid 
was  discovered  by  IVIr.  Mazey,  at  a  late  hour 
of  the  night  (with  her  master's  basket  of  keys 
in  her  possession),  prying  into  the  private 
documents  kept  in  the  east  library.  The  girl 
removed  herself  from  the  house  the  next  morn- 
ing before  we  were  any  of  us  astir,  and  she 
has  not  been  heard  of  since.-    This' event  has 


NO  NAME. 


259 


annoyed  aud  alarmed  my  master  very  serious- 
ly ;  and  to  make  matters  worse,  on  the  day 
when  the  girl's  treacherous  conduct  was  dis- 
covered, the  a-^  iiiral  was  seized  with  the  first 
symptoms  of  a  .'vere  inflammatory  rold.  He 
was  not  himself  aware,  nor  was  any  one  else, 
how  he  had  caught  the  chill.  The  doctor  was 
sent  for,  and  kept  the  inflammation  down  until 
the  day  before  yesterday  —  when  it  broke  out 
again  under  circumstances  which  I  arfi  sure 
you  will  Wli  sorry  to  hear,  as  I  am  truly  sorry 
to  write  of  them. 

"  On  the  date  I  have  just  mentioned  —  I 
mean  the  fifteenth  of  the  month  —  my  master 
himself  informed  me  that  he  had  been  dread- 
fully disappointed  by  a  letter  received  from 
you,  which  had  come  in  the  morning  from 
foreign,  parts,  and  hail  brought  him  bad  news. 
He  did  not  tell  me  what  the  news  was — but  I 
have  never,  in  all  the  years  I  have  passed  in 
the  admiral's  service,  seen  him  so  distressingly 
upset,  and  so  unlike  himself,  as  ho  was  on  that 
day.  At  night  his  uneasiness  seemed  to  in- 
crease. He  was  in  such  a  state  of  irritation 
that  he  could  not  bear  the  sound  of  Mr.  Ma-c 
zey's  hard  breathing  outside  his  door,  aud  he 
laid  his  positive  orders  on  the  old  man  to  go 
into  one  of  the  bedrooms  for  that  night.  Mr. 
Mazey,  to  his  own  great  regret,  was  of  course 
obliged  to  obey. 

"  Our  only  means  of  preventing  the  admi- 
ral from  leaving  his  room  in  his  sleep,  if.  the 
fit  unfortunately  took  him,  being  now  remov- 
ed, Mr.  Mazey  and  I  agreed  to  keep  watch  by 
turns  through  the  night  —  sitting  with  the 
door  ajar  in  one  of  the  empty  rooms  near  our 
master's  bedchamber.  We'  could  thi;ik  of 
nothing  better  to  do  than  this — knowing  he 
would  not  allow  us  to  lock  him  in ;  and  not 
having  the  door-key  in  our  possession,  even  if 
we  could  have  ventured  to  secure  him  in  his 
room  without  his  permission.  I  kept  watch 
for  the  first  two  hours,  and  then  Mr.  Mazey 
took  my -place.  After  having  beeh  some  little 
time  in  my  own  room,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
the  old  man  was  hard  of  hearing,  and  that  if 
his  eyes  grew  at  all  heavy  in  the  uight  his 
ears  were  not  to  be  trusted  to  warn  him  if 
anything  happened.  I  slipped  on  my  fclothes 
again,  and  went  back  to  Mr.  Mazey.  He 
was  neither  asleep  nor  awake  —  he  was  be- 
tween the  two.  My  mind  misgave  me,  and  I 
went  on  to  the  admiral's  room.  The  door 
was  open,  and  the  bed  was  emptj-. 

"Mr.  Mazey  and  I  went  down  .stairs  in- 
stantly. We  looked  in  all  the  north  rooms, 
one  after  another,  and  found  no  traces  of  him. 
I  thought  of  the  drawing-room  next,  and,  be- 
ing the  most  active  of  the  two,  went  first  to 
examine  it.  The  moment  I  turned  the  sharp 
corner  of  the  passage  I  saw  my  master  coming 
toward  me  through  the  open  drawing-room 
door,  asleep  and  dreaming,  with  the  keys  in 
his  bands.  The  sliding-door  behind  him  was 
open  also;  and  the  fear  came  to  me  then,  and 
has   remained   with  me  evei;  since,  that'  his 


dream  had  led  him  through  tke  Batiqueting- 
hall  into  the  east  rooms.  We  abstained  from 
waking  him,  and  followed  his  steps  until  he 
returned  of  his  own  accord  to  his  bedcham- 
ber. The  next  morning,  I  grieve  to  say,  all 
the  bad  symptoms  came  back,  and  none  of  the 
remedies  emploj'ed  have  succeeded  in  getting 
the  better  of  them  yet.  By  the  doctor's  ad- 
vice we  refrained  from  telling  the  admiral 
what  had  happened.  He  is  still  under  the 
impression  that  he  passed  the  night  as  usual 
in  his  own  room. 

"  I  have  been  cai*eful  to  enter  into  all  the 
particulars  of  this  unfortunate  accident,  be- 
cause neither  Mr.  Mazey  nor  myself  desire  to 
screen  ourselves  from  blame,  if  blame  we  have 
deserved.  We  both  acted  for  the  best,  and 
we  both  beg  and  pray  you  will  consider  our 
responsible  situation,  and  come  as ,  soon  as 
possible  to  St.  Crux.  Our  honored  master  is 
ver}'  hard  to  manage  ;  and  the  doctor  thinks, 
as  Ave  (Jo,  that  your  presence  is  wanted  in  the 
house. 

"  I  remain.  Sir,  with  Mr.  Mazey's  respects 
and  my  own,  your  humble  servant, 

"Sophia  Drakk." 

V. 

FROM    CKOHIJK    BAIITXAM    TO    MISS    GARTH. 

••  St.  Crux,  April  22. 

"  Deah  Miss  Gakth  —  Pray  excuse  my 
not  thanking  you  sooner  for  your  kind  and 
consoling  letter.  We  are  in  sad  trouble  at 
St.  Crux.  Any  little  irritation  I  might  have' 
felt  at  my  poor  uncle's  unlucky  interference 
in  Portland  Place  is  all  forgotten  in  the  mis- 
fortune of  his  serious  illness.  He  is  suffering 
from  internal  inflammation,  produced  by  cold; 
and  symptoms  have  shown  themselves  which 
are  dangerous  at  his  age.  A  physician  from 
London  is  now  in  the  house.  You  shall  hear 
more  in  a  few  days.  Meantime,  believe  me, 
with  sincere  gratitude. 

"  Yours  most  truly, 

"  George  Baktram." 

VI. 

FIIOM    >IK.    LOSCOMBB    TO    MRS.    NOEJ.    VANSTONE.  . 

•'  Lincoln's  iNff  Fields,  Jlfay  6. 

"  Dear  Madam — I  have  unexpectedly  re- 
ceived some  information"  which  is  of  the  most 
vital  importance  to  your  interests.  The  news 
of  Admiral  Bartram's  death  has  reached  mc 
this  morning.  He  expired  at  his  own  house 
on  the  fourth  of  the  present  month. 

"  This  event  at  once  disposes  of  the  con- 
siderations which  I  had  previously  endeavored 
to  imprcBS  on  you  in  relation  to  your  discovery 
a't  St.  Crux.  The  wisest  course  we  can  now 
follow  is  to  open  communications  at  once  with 
the  executors  of  the  deceased  gentleman ; 
addressing  them  through  the  medium  of  the 
admiral's  le^al  adviser  in  the  first  instance. 

"  I  have  dispatched  a  letter  this  day  to  the 
solicitor  in  question.     It   simply  warns  him 


360 


NO  NAME. 


that  we  have  lately  become  awafe  of  the  ex- 
istence of  a  private  Document  controlling  the 
deceased  gentleman  in  his  use  of  the  legacy 
devised  to  him  by  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  will. 
My  letter  assumes  that  the  document  will  be 
easily  found  among  the  admiral's  papers,  and 
it  mentions  that  I  am  the  solicitor  appointed 
by  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  to  receive  communi- 
cations on  her  behalf.  My  object  in  taking 
this  step  is  to  cause  a  search  to  be  instituted 
for  the  Trust  —  in  the  very  probable  event  of 
the  executors  not  having  met  with  it  yet — 
before  the  usual  measures  are  adopted  for  the 
administration  of  the  admiral's  estate.  We 
will  threaten  legal  proceedings  if  we  find  that 
the  object  does  not  succeed.  But  I  anticipate 
no  such  necessity.  Admiral  Bartram's  ex- 
ecutors must  be  men  of  high  standing  and 
position,  and  they  will  do  justice  to  you  and 
to.  themselves  in  this  matter  by  looking  for  the 
Trust. 

"  Under  these  ci^cumstance^  you  will  natu- 
rally ask,  '  What  are  our  prospects  when  the 
document  is  found  ?'  Our  prospects  have  a 
bright  side  and  a  dark  side.  Let  us  tak6  the 
bright  side  to  begin  with. 

"  What  do  we  actually  know  ? 

"  We  know,  first,  that  the  Trust  does  really 
exist.  Secondly,  that  there  is  a  provision  in 
it  relating  to  the  marriage  of  Mr.  George 
Bartram  m  a  given  time.  Thirdly,  that  the 
time  (six  mqpths  from  the  date  of  your  hus- 
band's death)  expired  on  the  third  of  this 
month.  Fourthly,  that  Mr.  George  Bartram 
(as  I  have  found  out  by  inquiry,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  any  positive  information  on  the  sub- 
ject possessed  by  yourself)  is  at  the  present 
moment  a  single  man.  The  conclusion  nat- 
urally follows  that  the  object  contemplated 
by  the  Trust,  in  this  case,  is  an  object  that  has 
failed. 

"  If  no  other  provisions  have  been  inserted 
in  the  document  —  or  if,  being  inserted,  those 
other  provisions  should  be  discovered  to  have 
failed  also  —  I  believe  it  to  be  impossible  (es- 
pecially if  evidence  can  be  found  that  the 
admiral  himself  considered  the  Trust  binding 
on  him)  for  the  executors  to  deal  with  your 
husband's  fortune  as  legally  forming  part  of 
Admiral  Bartram's  estate.  The  legacy  is  ex- 
pressly declared  to  have  been  left  to  him, 
on  the  understanding  that  he  applies  it  to 
certain  stated  objects — and  those  objects  have 
failed.  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  money  ? 
It  was  not  left  to  the  admiral  himself,  on 
the  testator's  own  showing ;  and  the  purposes 
for  which  it  was  left  have  not  been,  and  can 
not  be,  carried  out.  I  believe  (if  the  case 
here  supposed  really  happens)  that  the  money 
must  revert  to  the  testator's  estate.  In  that 
event  the  Law,  dealing  with  it  as  a  matter  of 
necessity,  divides  it  into  two  equal  portions. 
One-half  goes  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  child- 
less widow,  and  the  other  half  is  divided 
among  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  nest  of  kin. 


"  You  will  no  doubt  discover  the  obvioas 
objection  to  the  case  in  our  favor,  as  I  have 
here  put  it.     You  will  see  that  it  depends  for 
its  practical   realization,  not  /)n  one  contin- 
j  gency,  but  on  a  series  of  conpe.gencies,  which 
;  must  all   happen   exactly  as'  we  wish   them 
I  to  happen.     I, admit  the  force  of  the  objec- 
'  tion  :  but  I  can  tell  you  at  the  same  time  that 
these  said  contingencies  are  by  no  means  so 
'  improbable   as  they  may    look   on    the  face 
of  them.  -  . 

I  "  We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the 
Trust,  like  the  Will,  was  not  drawn  by  a 
I  lawyer.  That  is  one  circumstance  in  our  fa- 
vor—  that  is  enough  of  itself  to  cast  a  doubt 
!  on  the  soundness  of  all  or  any  of  the  remain- 
i  ing  provisions  which  we  may  not  be  ac- 
quainted with.  Another  chance,  which  we 
may  count  on  is  to  be  found,  as  I  think,  in 
that  strange  handwriting,  placed  under  the 
signature  on  the  third  page  of  the  Letter, 
which  you  saw,  but  which  you  unhappily 
omitted  to  read.  All  the  probabilities  point 
to  these  lines  as  written  by  Admiral  Bartram ; 
and  the  position  which  they  occupy  is  cer- 
tainly consistent  with  the  theory  that  they 
touch  the  important  subject  of  his  own  sense 
of  obligation  under  the  'Trust. 

"I  wish  to  raise  no  false  hopes  in  your 
I  mind.  I  only  desire  to  satisfy  yoy  that  we 
j  have  a  case  worth  trj-ing. 
j  "  As  for  the  dark  side  of  the  prospect,  I 
\  need  not  enlarge  on  it.  After  what  I  hav  e 
j  already  written,  you  will  understand  that  the 
'  existence  of  a  sound  provision  unknown  to  us 
'  in  the  Trust — whi<*h  has  been  properly  carried 
I  out  by  the  admiral,  or  which  can  be  properly 
carried  out  hf  his  representatives — would  be 
j  necessarily  fatal  to  our  hopes.  The  legacy 
I  would  be  in  this  case  devoted  to  the  purpose 
I  or  purposes  contemplated  by  your  husband, 
j  and  from  that  moment  you  would  have  no 
claim. 

I      "I  have  only  to  add,  that  as  soon  as  I  hear 
I  from  the  late  admiral's  man  of  business  you 
shall  know  the  result. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  madam,  faithfully  yours, 
"  John  Losoombk." 

Vll. 

rnOV    GBOnGB    CABTRAil    TO    WISR    GAETH. 

"St!.  Crcx,  May  15. 

"  Dear  Miss  GaktH — I  trouble  you  with 
another  letter,  partly  to  thank  you  for  your 
kind  expression  of  sympathy  with  me  under 
the  loss  that  I  sustained,  and  partly  to  tell 
you  of  an  extraordinary  application  made  to 
my  uncle's  executors,  in  which  you  and  Miss 
Vanstone  may  both  feel  interested,  as  Mrs. 
Noel  Vanstone  is  dii-ectly  concerned  in  it. 

"  Knowing  my  own  ignorance  of  legal  tech- 
nicalities, I  inclose  a  copy  of  the  application, 
instead  of  trying  to  describe  it.  You  will 
notice  as  suspicioifs  that  no  explanation  is 
given  of  the   manner  in  which  the    alleged 


NO  NAME. 


261 


diflcoverj'  of  one  of  my  uncle's  secrets  was  ] 
made  by  persons  who  are  total  strangers  to  | 
him.  _  I 

"  On  being  made  acquainted  with  the  (>ir- 1 
cumstances,  the  executors  at  once  applied  to  ; 
me.      I  could  give  them   ito   positive  infor- ' 
mation,  for  my  uncle  never  consulted  me  on 
matters   of  business.      But    T   felt   in    honor  j 
bound  to  tell  them  that   during  the  last  six  j 
months  of  his  life  the  admiral  had  occasionalh  ■ 
let  fall  expressions  of  impatience  in  my  hear- 
ing, which  led  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
annoyed  by  a  private  responsibility  of   some  | 
kind.     1  also  mentioned  that  he  had  imposed  \ 
a  very  strange  condition  on  me  —  a  conilition  1 
which,  in  spite  of  his  own  assurances  to  the  i 
contrary,   I   was   persuaded  could    not  have 
emanated  from  himself — of  marrying  Ti^ithin  a  [ 
given  time  (which  time  has  now  e.xpired),  or  i 
of  not  receiving  from  him  a  certain  sum  of  | 
money,  which  I  believed  to  be  the  same  in  | 
amount   as   the    sum  bequeathed  .  to   him   in 
my  coysin's  will.     The  executors  agreed  with  ; 
me  that  these  circufiistances  gave  a  color  of  1 
probability  to  an  otherwise  incredible  story ; 
and  they  de<nded  that  a  search  should  be  in- , 
stituted  for  the  Secret  Trust  —  nothings;  in  the 
slightest  degree  resembling  this  same   Trust  j 
having  been  discovered  up  to  that  time  among 
the  admiral's  papers. 

"  The.  seareii  (no  trifle  in  such  a  house  as  ! 
this)  has  now  been  in  full  progress  for  a  week. 
It  is  superintended  by  both  the  executors  and  ', 
by  my  uncle's  lawyer— who  is  personally,  as 
well  as  professionally,  known  to  Mr.  Loscombc 
(Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone's  solicitor),  and  who  has 
been  included  in  the  proceedings  at  tlie  ex-  | 
press  request  of  Mr.  Loscombe  himself     I'p 
to  this  time  nothing  whatever  has  been  ibuiid. 
Thousands  and  thousands  of  letters  have  been 
examined  —  and  not  one  of  them   bears  the  , 
remotest  resemblance    to  the"  letter    we    are  { 
looking  for. 

"  Another  week  will  bring  the  search  to  an 
end.  It  is  only  at  my  express  request  that  it 
will  be  persevered  with  so  long.  But  as  the  ' 
admiral's  generosity  has  made  me  sole  heir  to 
everything  he  posses-sed,  I  feel  bound  to  do 
the  fullest  justice  to  the  interests  of  others, 
however  hostile  to  myself  those  interests- 
may  be. 

"  With  this  view  I  have  not  hesitated  to  re- ; 
veal  to  the  lawyer  a  constitutional  peculiarity  '< 
of  my  poor  imcle's.  which  was  always  kept  a  ' 
secret  among  us  at  his  own  request — 1  mean  his  i 
tendency  to  somnambulism.    1  mentioned  that 
he  had  been  discovered  (by  the  housekeeper  ' 
and  his  old  servant)  walking  in  his  sleep  about 
three  weeks  before  his  death,  and  that  the  ' 
part  of  the  house  in  which  he  had  been  seen,  i 
and  the  basket  of  keys  which  he  was  carrying 
in  his  hand,  suggested  the  inference  that  he  J 
had  come  from  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  east  i 
wing,  and  that  he  might  have  opened  some  of 
the  pieces  of  furniture  in  one  of  them.     I  sur- 
prised the  lawyer  (who  seemetl  to  be  quit^  I 


ignorant  of  the  extraordinary  actions  con- 
stantly performed  by  somnambulists)  by  in- 
forming him  that  my  uncle  could  find  his  way 
about  the  house,  lock  and  unlock  doors,  and 
remove  objects  of  all  kinds  from  one  place  to 
another  as  easily  in  his  sleep  as  in  his  waking 
hours.  And  I  declared  that,  while  I  felt  the 
faintest  doubt  in  my  own  mind  whether  he 
might  not  have  been  dreaming  of  the  Trust 
on  the  night  in  question,  and  putting  the 
dream  in  action  in  nis  sleep,  I  should  not  feel 
satisfied  unless  the  rooms  in  the  east  wing 
were  searched  again. 

"  It  is  only  right  to  add  that  there  is  not  the 
least  foundation  in  fact  for  this  idea  of  mine.' 
During  the  latter  part  of  his  fatal  illness  my 
poor  uncle  was  quite  incapable  of  speaking  on 
any  subject  whatever.  From  the  lime  of  my 
arrival  at  St.  Crux,  in  the  middle  of  last 
month,  to  the  time  of  his  death,  not  a  word 
dropped  from  him  which  referred  in  the  re- 
motest way  to  the  Secret  Trust. 

"  Here  then,  for  the  present,  the  matter 
rests.  If  you  think  it  right  to  commnnicate 
the  contents  of  this  letter  to  Miss  Van«tone, 
pray  tell  her  that  it  will  not  be  my  fault  if  her 
sister's  a^.sertion  (however  preposterous  it  may 
seem  to  my  uncle's  executors)  is  not  fairly  put 
to  the  proof 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Miss  Garth,  always  truly 
your.s,  Georok  Bartuajm. 

"  P.  S. — As  soon  as  all  business  matters  are 
settled  I  am  going  abroad  for  some  months,  to 
try  the  relief  of  change  of  scene.  The  house 
will  be  shut  up,  and  left  under  the  charge  of 
Mrs.  Drake.  I  have  not  forgotten  your  once 
telling  me  that  you  should  like  to  see  St.  Crux, 
if  you  ever  found  yourself  in  this  neighbor- 
hood. If  you  are  at  all  likely  to  be  in  Essex 
during  the  time  when  I  am  abroad,  I  have 
provided  against  the  chance  of  yonr  being 
disappointed,  by  leaving  instructions  with 
Mrs.  Drake  to  give  you.  and  any  friends  of 
yours,  the  freest  admission  to  the  house  and 
grounds." 

VIII. 

PROM     MR.    rO.sroMBE    TO    MRS.    NOEL    VAMSTOKB. 

■'Lincoln's  Inn  Fiklds.  Jfoj/ .4. 

"  DiiAK  Madam — After  a  whole  fortnight's 
search — conducted,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  with 
the  most  coiK>;cientious  and  unrela.xing  care — 
no  such  document  as  the  Secret  Trust  ,has 
been  found  among  the  papers  lef't  at  St.  Crux 
by  the  late  Admiral  Bartram. 

"  Under  these  circumstances  the  executors 
have  decided  on  acting  under  the  only  recog- 
nizable authority  which  they  have  to  guide 
them — the  admiral's  own  will.  This  document 
(executed  .some  yeajs  since)  bequeaths  the 
whole  of  his  estate,  both  real  and  personal 
(that  is  to  .say,  all  the  lands  he  possesses,  an'd 
all  the  money  he  possesses  at  the  time  of  his 
death),  to  his  nephew.  The  will  is  plain,  and 
the  result  is  inevitable.  Your  husband's  for- 
tune i»  lost  to  you  from  this  moment.     Mr. 


tti-d 


NO  NAME. 


(reor^e  Barti-am  legally  inherits  it,  as  he  le- 
irally  inherits  the  house  and  estate  of  St.  Crux. 
"  I  make  no  comment  upon  this  extraordi- 
iiaiy  close  to  the  proceedings.  The  Trust 
may  have  been  destroyed,  or  the  Trust  may 
be  hidden  in  some  place  of  concealment  inac- 
cessible to  discovery  aftei*  the  most  patient 
and  prolonged  search  for  it.  It  is  useless  for 
either  of  us  to  speculate  on  the  subject  now. 
I  will  not  add  to  your  disappointment  by  any 
references  to  the  time  and  money  which  I 
have  lost  in  the  unfortunate  attempt  to  assert 
your  interests.  I  will  merely  say  that  my 
connection  (both  personal  and  professional) 
with  the  matter  must  from  this  moment  be 
considered  at  an  end. 

".  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  John  Loscombk." 

IX. 

FROM    MRS.    IIUUBOCK  (LODGING-HOUSE    KEEPER)  TO 
MR.    LOSCOMBE. 

•  Cark  Terrace.  St.  .Iohn.s  Wood,  June  2. 

"  Sir — Having,  by  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone's 
directions,  taken  letters  for  hei-  to  the  post 
addressed  to  you,  and  knowing  no  on6  else  to 
apply  to,  I  beg  to  inquire  whether  you  are 
acquainted  with  any  of  her  friends,  for  I  think 
it  right  that  they  should  be  stirred  up  to  take 
some  steps  about  her. 

"  Mrs.  Vanstone  first  caine  to  me  in  Novem- 
ber last,  when  she  and  her  maid  occupied  my 
apartments.  On  that  occasion,  and  again  on 
this,  she  has  given  me  no  cause  to  complain  of 
her.  She  has  behaved  like  a  lady,  and  paid 
me  my  due.  I  am  writing,  as  a  mother  of  a 
family,  under  a  sense  of  responsibility — I  am 
not  writing  with  an  interested  motive. 

"  After  proper  warning  given,  Mrs.  Van- 


stone  (who  is  now  quite  alone)  leaves  me  to- , 
morrow.  She  has  not  concealed  from  me  that 
her  circumstances  are  fallen  very  low,  ai;id 
that  she  cannot  afford  to  remain  in  my  house. 
This  is  all  ste  has  told  me  —  I  know  nothing 
of  where  she  is  going,  or  what  she  means  to 
do  next.  But  I  have  every  reason  to  believe 
she  desires  to  destroy  all  traces  by  which  -she 
might  be  found  after  leaving  this  place  ;  for  I 
discovei^d  her  in  tears  yesterday,  burning 
letters  which  were  doubtless  letters  from  her 
friends.  In  looks  and  conduct  she  has  altered 
most  shockingly  in  the  last  week.  I  believe 
there  is  some  dreadful  trouble  on  he^;  mind ; 
and  I  am  afraid,  from  what  I  see  of  her,  that 
she  is  on  the  eve  ,of  a  serious  illness.  It  is 
very  sad  to  see  such  a  young  woman  so  ut-. 
terly  deserted  and  frielidless  as  she  is  now. 

"Excuse  my  troubling  you  with  this  letter; 
it  is  on  my  conscience  to  write  it.  If  you 
know  any  of  her  relations,  please  warn  them 
that  time  is  not  to  be  wasted.  If  they  lose 
to-morrow,  they  may  lose  the  last  chance  of 
finding  her. 

"  Your  humble  servant, 

"  Catherine  Ruddock." 

X. 

FROM    MR.    LOSCOMBE    TO    MKS..    RUDDOCK. 

."  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  Juna  2. 

"  Madam — My  only  connection  with  Mrs. 
Noel  Vanstone  was  a  professional  one,  and 
that  connection  is  now  at  an  end.  I  am  not 
acquainted  with  any  of  her  friends,  and  I 
can  not  undertake  to  interfere  personally 
either  with  her  present  or  future  proceedings. 

"  Regretting  my  inability  to  afford  you  any 
assista,nce,  I  remain,  your  obedient  servant, 
"John  Loscombe." 


THE  LAST  SCENE-AARON'S    BUILDINGS. 


CHAPTER  L 

On  the  s'eventh  of  Jun«  the  owners  of  the 
merchantman  Deliverance  received  news  that 
the  ship  had  touched  at  Plymouth  to  land 
passengers,  and  had  then  continued  her  home- 
ward voyage  to  the  Port  of  London.  Five 
days  later  the  latter  was  in  the  river,  and  was 
towed  into  the  East  India  docks. 

Having  transacted  the  business  on  shore  for 
which  he  was  personally  responsible.  Captain 
Kirke  made  the  necessary  arrangements  by 
letter  for  visiting  his  brother-in-law's  parson- 
age in  Suffolk,  on  the  seventeenth  of  the 
month.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  he  received 
a  list  of  commissions  to  execute  for  his  sister 
on  the  day  before  he  left  London.  One  of 
these  commissions  took  him  into  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Camden  Town.  He  drove  to  his 
destination  from  the  Docks,  and  then,  dismiss- 


ing the  vehicle,  set  forth  to  walk  back  south- 
ward toward  the  New  Road. 

He  was  not  well  acquainted  with  the  dis- 
trict, and  his  attention  wandered  further  and 
further  away  from  the  scene  around  him  as 
he  went  on.  His  thoughts,  roused  by  the 
prospect  of  seeing  his  sister  again,  had  led 
his  memory  back  to  the  night  when  he  had 
parted  from  her,  leaving  the  house  on  foot. 
The  spell  so  strangely  laid  on  him  in  that 
past  time  had  kept  its  hold  through  all  after 
events.  The  face  that  had  haunted  him  &n 
the  lonely  road  had  hauiited  him  again  on 
the  lonely  sea.  '  The  woman  who  had  fol- 
lowed him,  as  in  a  dream,  to  his  sister's  door, 
had  followed  him  —  th6ught  of  his  thought, 
and  spirit  of  his  spirit  —  to  the  deck  of  his 
ship.  Through' storm  and  calm  on  the  voy- 
age out,  through  storm  and  calm  on  the  voy- 
age home,  she  had  been  with  him.    In  the 


i*0  NAME. 


363 


ceaseless  turmoil  of  the  London  streets  she 
was  with  him  now.  He  knew  what  the  first 
question  on  his  lips  would  be,  when  he  had 
seen  his  sister  and  her  boys.  "I  shall  try  to 
talk  of  something  else,"  he  thought ;  "  but 
when  Lizzie  and  I  are  alone,  it  will  come  out 
in  spite  of  me.'" 

The  necessity  of  waiting  to  let  a  string 
of  carts  pass  at  a  turning  before  he  crossed 
awakened  him  to  present  tilings.  ,He  looked 
about  in  a  momentary  confusion.  The  street 
was  strange  to  him;  he  had  lost  his  way. 

The  first  foot-passenger  of  whom  he  in- 
quired appeared  to  have  no  time  to  waste  in 
giving  information.  Hurriedly  directing  him 
to  cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  road,  to  turn 
down  the  first  street  he  came  to  on  his  right 
hand,  and  then  to  ask  again,  the  stranger  un- 
ceremoniously hastened  on  without  waiting 
to  be  thanked. 

Kirke  followed  his  directions,  and  took  the 
turning  on  his  right.  The  street  was  short 
and  narrow,  and  the  houses  on  either  side 
were  of  the  poorer  order.  He  looked  up  as 
he  passed  the  corner  to  see  what  the  name  of 
the  place  might  be.  It  was  trailed  "  Aaron's 
Buildings." 

Low  down  on  the  side  of  the  "  Buildings  " 
along  which  he  was  walking  a  little  crowd  of 
idlers  was  assembled  round  two  cabs,  both 
drawn  up  before  the  door  of  the  same,  house. 
Kirke  advanced  to  the  crowd  to  ask  his  way 
of  any  civil  stranger  among  them  wlio  might 
not  be  in  a  hurry  this  time.  On  approaching 
the  cabs  he  found  a  AToman  disputing  with 
the  drivers,  and  heard  enough  to  inform  him 
that  two  vehicles  had  been  sent  for  by  mis- 
take where  only  one  was  wanted. 

The  house-door  was  open ;  and  when  he 
turned  that  way  next,  he  looked  easily  into 
the  passage  over  the  heads  of  the  jieople  in 
front  of  him. 

The  sight  that  met  his  eyes  should-  have 
been  shielded  in  pity  from  the  observation  of 
the  street.  He  saw  a  slatternly  girl,  with  a 
frightened  face,  standing  by  an  old  chair 
placed  in  the  middle  of  the  jiassage,  and 
holding  a  woman  on  the  chair,  too  weak  and 
helpless  to  support  herself —  a  woman  appar- 
ently in  the  last  stage  of  illness,  who  was 
about  to  be  removed,  when  the  dispute  out- 
side was  ended,  in  one  of  the  cabs.  Her 
head  was  drooping  when  he  first  saw  her,  and 
an  old  shawl  which  covered  it  had  fallen  for- 
ward so  as  to  hide  the  upper  ])art  of  her  face. 

Before  he  could  look  away  again  the  girl 
in  charge  of  her  raised  her  head  and  restored 
the  shawl  to  its  place.  The  action  disclosed 
her  face  to  view,  for  an  instant  only,  before 
her  head  drooped  back  on  her  bosom.  In 
that  instant  he  saw  the  woman  whose  beauty 
was  the  haunting  remembrance  of  his  life  — 
whose  iniagef  had  been  vivid  in  his  mind  not 
live  minutes  since. 

The  shock  of  the  double  recognition —  the 
recognition,  at  the  same  moment,  of  the  face, 


and  of  the  dreadful  change  in  it — struck  him 
speechless  and  helpless.  The  steady  presence 
of  mind  in  all  emergencies,  which  had  be«om»' 
a  habit  of  his  life,  failetl  him  for  the  first 
time.  The  poverty-stricken  street,  the  squalid 
mob  round  the  door,  swam  before  his  eyes. 
He  stagfjered  back,  and  caught  at  the  iron 
I'ailings  of  the  house  behind  himl 

"  Where  are  the}-  taking  her  to  V"  he  heard 
a  woman  ask,  close  at  his  side. 

"  To  the  hospital,  if  they  will  have  her," 
was  the  reply.  "  And  to  the  work-house,  ii' 
they  won't." 

That  horrible  answer  roused  him.  He 
pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  and  en- 
tered the  house. 

The  misunderstanding  on  the  pavement 
had  been  set  right,  and  otie  of  the  cabs  Uatl 
driven  off.  As  he  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  door  he  confronted  the  people  of  the 
house  at  the  moment  when  they  wera  moving 
her.  The  cabman  who  had  remained  wa«  on 
one  side  of  the  chair,  and  the  woman  who 
had  been  disputing  with  the  two  drivers  was 
on  the  other.  They  were  just  lifting  her 
when  Kirke's  t-all  figure  darkened  the  door. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  that  lady  ?"  he 
asked. 

The  cabman  looked  up  with  the  insolence 
of  his  reply  visible  in  his  eyes  before  his  lips 
could  utter  it.  But  the  woman,  quicker  than 
he,  saw  the  suppressed  agitation  in  Kirke's 
face,  and  dropped  her  hold  of  the  chair  in  an 
instant. 

"  Do  you  know  her.  Sir  ?"  asked  the  wom- 
an, eagerly.  "  Are  you  one  of  her  friends  ?" 
.  "  Yes,"  said  Kirke,  without  hesitation. 

"  It  's  not  my  fault,  Sir,"  pleaded  the  wom- 
an, shrinking  under  the  look  he  fixed  on  her. 
"  I  would  have  waited  patiently  till  her  friends 
found  her  —  I  would,  indeed  I" 

Kirke  made  no  reply.  He  turned  ami 
spoke  to  the  cabman. 

"  Go  ont,"  he  said,  "  and  close  the  door 
after  you.  I  '11  send  you  down  your  money 
directly.  What  room  in  the  house  did  yon 
take  her  from  when  you  brought  her  down 
here  ?"  he  resumed,  addressing  himself  to  the 
woman  again. 

"  The  first  floor  back,  Sir." 

"  Show  m0  the  way  to  it." 

He  stooped  and  lifted  Magdalen  in  his 
arms.  Her  head  rested  gently  on  the  sailor's 
breast ;  her  eyes  looke-d  up  wonderingly  into 
the  sailor's  face.  She  smiled,  and  •yvhispered 
t«  him  ■•acantly.  Her  mind  had  wandered 
back  to  old  days  at  home,  and  her  few  broken 
words  .showed  that  she  fancied  herself  a  chiM 
again  in  her  father's  anus.  "  Poor  papa !" 
she  said,  soflly.  "  Why  do  you  look  so  sorry  V 
Poor  papa !" 

The  woman  led  the  way  into  the  back 
room  on  the  first  floor.  It  was  very  small ;  it 
was  n»serably  furnished.  But  the  little  bed 
was  clean,  and  the  few  things  in  the  room 
were  neatly  kept.    Kirke  laid  her  tenderly  on 


264 


NO  NAME. 


the  bed.  She  caught  one  of  his  hamls  in  her 
burning  fingers.  "  Don't  distress  mamma 
about  me,"  uhe  said.  "  Send  for  Norah." 
Ivirke  tried  gently  to  release  her  hand ;  but 
she  only  clasped  it  the  more  eagerly.  He  sat 
down  by  the  bedside  to  wait  until  it  pleased 
her  to  release  him.  The  woman  stood  look- 
ing at  them,  and  crying  in  a  corner  of  the 
room.  Kirke  observed  her  attentively.  — 
"  Speak,"  he  said,  after  an  interval,  in  low, 
quiet  tones.  "  Speak  in  her  presence,  and 
tell  me  the  truth." 

With  many  words,  with   many  tears,  the 
woman  spoke. 

She  had  let  her  first  floor  to  the  lady  a  fort- 
tiight  since.  The  lady  had  paid  a  week's 
rent,  and  had  given  the  name  of  Gray.  She 
had  been  oiit  from  morning  till  night  for  the 
first  three  days,  and  had  come  home  again  on- 
every  occasion  with  a  wretchedly  weary,  dis- 
appointed looft.  The  woman  of  the  house 
had  suspected  that  she  was  in  hiding  from  her 
friends  under  a  false  name,  and  that  she  had 
been  vainly  trying  to  raise  ifloney,,or  to  get 
some  employment,  on  the  three  days  when 
she  was  out  for  so  long,  and  when  she  looked 
so  disappointed  on  coming  home.  Ho^uever 
that  might  be,  on  the  fourth  day  she  had  fall- 
en ill  with  shivering  fits  and  hot  fits,  turn  and 
turn  about.  On  the  fifth  day  she  was  worse ; 
and  on  the  sixth  she  was  too  sleepy  at  one 
time,  and  too  light-headed  at  another,  to  be 
spoken  to.  The  chemist  (who  did  the  doctor- 
ing in  thos«  parts)  had  come  and  looked  at 
her,  and  had  said  he  thought  it  was  a  bad 
fever.  He  had  left  a  "saline  draught,"  which 
the  woman  of  the  house  had  paid  for  out  of 
her  own  pocket,  and  had  administered  with- 
out effect.  She  had  ventured  on  searching 
the  only  box  which  the  lady  had  brought  with 
her,  and  had  found  nothing  in  it  but  a  few 
necessary  articles  of  linen  —  no  dresses,  no 
ornaments,  not  so  much  a?  the  fragment  of  a 
letter  which  might  help  in  discovering  her 
friends.  Between  the  risks-  of  keeping  her 
under  these  circumstances,  and  the  barbarity 
of  turning  a  sick  woman  into  the  streets,  the 
landlady  herself  had  not  hesitated.  She  A^'ould 
willingly  have  kept  her  tenant  on  the  chance 
of  the  lady's  recovery,  and  on  the  chance  of 
friends  turning  up.  But  not  half  an  hour 
since  her  husband  —  who  never  came  near 
the  house  except  to  take  her  money  —  had 
come  to  rob  her  of  her  little  earnings,  as 
usual.  She  had  been  obliged  to  tell  him  that 
no  rent  was  in  hand  for  the  first  floor,  and 
that  none  was  likely  to  be  in  hand  nntil  the 
lady  recovered  or  her  friends  found  her.  On 
hearing  this,  he  had  mercilessly  insisted  — 
well  or  ill  —  that  the  lady  should  go.  There 
was  the  hospital  to  take  her  to ;  and  if  the 
hospital  shut  its  doors,  there  was  the  work- 
house to  try  next.  If  she  was  not  out  of  the 
place  in  an  hour's  time  he  threatened  to  come 
oack  and  take  her  out  himself  His  wife 
knew  but  too  well  that  he  was  brute  enough 


to  be  as  good  as  his  word ;  and.  no  other  choice 
had  been  left  her  but  to  do  as  she  had  done, 
for  the  sake  of  the  lady  herself. 

The  woman  told  her  shocking  story  with 
every  appearance  of  being  honestly  ashamed 
of  it.  Toward  the  end  Kirke  felt  the  clasp  of 
the  burning  fingers  slackening  round  his  hand. 
He  looked  back  at  the  bed  again.  Her  weary 
eyes  were  closing,  and,  with  her  face  still 
turned  towaj:d  the  sailor,  she  was  sinking  into 
sleep. 

''  Is  there  any  one. in  the  front  room  ?"  said 
Kirke,  in  a  whisper.  "  Come  in  there ;  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

The  woman  followed  him  through  the  door 
of  communication  between  the  rboms. 

"  How  much  does  she  owe  you '?"  he  asked. 

The  landlady  mentioned  the  sum.  Kirke 
put  it  down  before  her  on  the  table. 

"Where  is  your  husband?"  was  his  next 
question.'  .     , 

"  Waiting  at  the  public  house.  Sir,  till  the 
hour  is  up." 

"  You  can  take  him  the  money  or  not,  as 
you  think  right,"  said  Kirke,  quietly.  "  I  have 
only  one  thing  to  tell  you,  so  far  as  your  hus- 
band is  concerned.  If  you  want  to  see  every 
bone  in  his  skin  broken,  let  him  come  to  the 
house  while  I  am  in  it.  Stop  !  I  have  some- 
thing more  to  say.  Do  you  know  of  any 
doctor  in  the  neighborhood  who  can  be  de- 
pended on  ?" 

"Not  in  our  neighborhood,  •  Sir.  But  I 
know  of  one  within  half  an  hour's  walk  of 

Uf." 

"  Take  the  cab  at  the  door,  and  if  you  find 
him  at  home  bring  him  back  in  it.  Say  I  am 
waiting  here  for  his  opinion  on  a  very  serious 
case.  He  shall  be  well  paid,  and  you  shall  be 
well  paid.     Make  haste  !" 

The  woman  left  the  room. 

Kirke  sat  down  alone  to  wait  for  her  re- 
turn. He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  tried 
to  realize  the  strange  and  touching  situation 
in  which  the  accident  of  a  moment  had  placed 
him. 

Hidden  in  the  squalid  by-ways  of  London, 
under  a  false  name — cast,  friendless  and  help- 
less, on  the  mercy  of  strangers  by  illness 
which  had  struck  her  prostrate,  mind  and 
body  alike — so  he  met  her  again,  the  woman 
who  had  opened  a  new  world  of  beauty  to  his 
mind  —  the  woman  who  had  called  Love  to 
life  in  him  by  a  look  !  .What  horrible  misfor- 
tune had  struck  her  so  cruelly,  and  struck  her 
so  low  ■?  What  mysterious  destiny  had  guided 
him  to  the  last  refuge  of  her  poverty  and 
despair  in  the  hour  of  her  sorest  need  ?  "  If 
it  is  ordered  that  I  am  to  see  her  again,  I  shall 
see  her."  Those  words  came  back  to  him  . 
now  —  the  memorable  words  that  he  had 
spoken  to  his  sister  at  parting.  With  that 
thought  in  his  heart  he  had  gone  where  his 
duty  waited  for  him.  Months  and  months 
had  passed ;  thousands  and  thousands  of  miles, 
protracting  their  desolate  length  on  the  un- 


:no  name. 


2$5 


resting  waters,  had  rolled  between  them.  And  ' 
through  the  lapse  of  time,  and  over  "the  waste 
of  oceans,  day  after   day,    and   night  after 
night,  as  the  winds  of  heaven  blew,  and  the 
good  ship  toiled  on  before  them,  he  had  ad- 
vanced  nearer  and   nearer   to   the  end   that 
was  waiting  for  him — he  had  journeyed  blind-  j 
fold  to  the  meeting  on  the  threshold  of  that  i 
miserable    door.      "What    has    brought    me  i 
here  ?"  he  said  to  himself  in  a  whisper.  "  The 
mercy  of  chance  ?    No  !    The,  mercy  of  God." 

He  waited,  nnregardful  of  the  place,  un- 
conscious of  the  time,  until  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps on  the  stairs  came  suddenly  between 
him  and  his  thoughts.  The  door  opened,  and 
the  doctor  was  shown  into  the  room. 

"  Dr.  Merrick,"  said  the  landlady,  placing 
a  chair  for  him. 

"-il/r.  Merrick,"  said  the  visitor,  smiling 
quietly  as  he  took  thtj  chair.  "  I  am  not  a 
physician  —  T  am  a  surgeon  jn  general  prac- 
tice." 

Physician  or  surgeon,  there  wa^  something 
in  his  face  and  manner  which  told  Kirke  at  a 
glance  that  he  was  a  man  to  be  relied  on. 

After  a  few  preliminary  words  on  either 
side,  Mr.  IMerrick  sent  the  landlady  into  th.e 
bedroom  to  see  if  his  patient  was  awake  or 
asleep.  The  woman  returned,  and  said  she 
was  "  betwixt  the  two,  light  in  the  head 
again,  and  burning  hot."  The  doctor  went 
at  once  into  the  bedroom,  telling  the  landlady 
to  follow  him,  and  to  close  the  door  behind 
her. 

A  weary  time  passed  before  he  came  back 
into  the  front  room.  When  he  reappeared 
his  face  spoke  for  him  before  any  question 
could  be  asked. 

"  Is  it  a  serious  illness  V"  said  Kirke,  his 
voice  sinking  low,  his  eyes  anxiously  fixed  on 
the  doctor's  face. 

.    "  It  is  a  dangerous  illness,"  said  Mr.  Mer- 
rick, with  an  emphasis  on  the  word. 

He  drew  his  chair  nearer  to  Kirke,  and 
looked  at  him  attentively. 

"  May  1  ask  you  some  questions  which  are 
not  strictly  medical  V"  he  inquired. 
,    Kirke  bowed. 

"  Csn  you  tell  me  what  her  life  has  been 
before  she  came  into  this  house,  afld  before 
she  fell  ill?" 

"  I  have  no  means  of  knowing.  I  have 
just  returned  to  England  after  a  long  ab- 
sence." 

"  Did  you  know  of  her  coming  htre  ?" 

'•  I  only  discovered  it  by  accident." 

''  Has  she  no  female  relations  ?    No  mother  ? 
'  no  sister?  no  one  to  take  care  of  h«r  .but 
yourself?" 

"  No  one  —  unless  I  can  succeed  in  tracing 
her  relations.     No  one  but  myself." 

Mr.  Merrick  was  silent.    He  looked  at  Kirke 

more    attentively    than    ever.      "  Strange  ! " 

thought   the   doctor.      "  He   is   here   in    sole 

charge  of  her  —  and  is  this  all  he  knows  V  " 

Kirke  saw  the  doubt  in  his  face,  and  ad- 

84 


dressed  himself  straight  to  that  doubt  before 
another  word  passed  between  them. 

"  I  see  my  position  here  surprises  you,"  he 
said  simply.  "  Will  you  consider  it  the  posi- 
tion of  a  relation —  the  position  of  her  broth- 
er, or  her  father  —  until  her  friends  can  be 
found  ?"  His  voice  faltered,  and  he  laid  his 
hand  earnestly  on  the  doctor's  arm.  "I  have 
taken  this  trust  on  myself,"  he  said ;  "  and,  as 
God  shall  judge  me,  T  will  not  be  unworthy 
of  It!"         ■      "^  ■  " 

The  poor  weary  head  lay  on  his  breast 
a^ain,  and  Che  poor  fevered  fingers  clasped 
his  hand  once  more  as  he  spoke  those  words. 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  the  doctor,  warmly. 
"  I  believe  you  are  an  honest  man.  Pardon 
me  if  1  have  seemed  to  Intrude  myself  on 
your  confidence.  I  respect  your  reserve  — 
from  this  moment  it  is  sacred  to  me.  In  jus- 
tice to  both  of"  us,  let  me  say  that  the  ques- 
tions I  have  asked  were  not  prompted  by 
mere  curio.<ity.  No  common  cause  will  ac- 
count for  the  illness  which  has  laid  my  patient 
on  that  bed.  She  has  suffered  some  long- 
continued  mental  trial  —  some  wearing  and 
terrible  suspense,  and  she  has  broken  down 
under  it.  It  might  have  helped  me  if  I  could 
have  known  what  the  nature  of  the  trial  was, 
and  how  long  or  how  short  a  time  elapsed 
before  she  sank  under  it.  In  that  hope  I 
spoke." 

"  When  you  told  me  she  was  dangerously 
ill,"  said  Kirke,  "  did  you  mean  danger  to  her 
reason  or  to  her  life  ?" 

"To  both,"  replied  Mr.  Merrick.  "Her 
whole  nervous  system  has  given  way  ;  all  the 
ordinary  functions  of  her  brain  are  in  a  "state 
of  collapse.  I  can  give  you  no  plainer  expla- 
nation than  that  of  the  nature  of  the  malady. 
The  fever  which  frightens  the  people  of  the 
house  is  merely  the  effect.  The  cause  is  what 
I  have  told  you.  .She  may  lie  on  that  bed  for 
weeks  to  come  —  passing  alternately,  without 
a  gleam  of  consciousness,  from  a  state  of  de- 
lirium to  a  state  of  repose.  You  must  not  be 
alarmed  if  you  find  her  sleep  lasting  far  be- 
yond the  natural  time'  That  sleep  i»a  better, 
remedy  than  any  I  <an  give,  and  nothing 
must  disturb  it.  All  our  art  can  accomphsn 
is  to  watch  her  —  to  help  her  with  stimulante 
from  time  to  time  —  and  to  viait  for  what 
Nature  will  do." 

"  Must  she  remain  here  V  la  there  no  hope 
of  our  being  able  to  move  her  to  a  better 
place  V" 

"  No  hope  whatever  for  the  present.  She 
has  already  been  disturbed,  as  I  understand, 
and'she  is  seriously  the  worse  for  it.  Even  if 
she  gets  better,  even  if  she  cpmes  to  herself 
again,  it  would  still  be  a  dangerous  experiment 
to  move  her  too  soon  —  the  least  excitement 
or  alarm  would  be  fatal  to  her.  You  must 
make  the  best  of  this  place  as  it  is.  The  land- 
lady has  my  directions,  and  I  will  send  a  good 
nurse  to  help  her.  There  is  nothing  more  to 
be  done.     So  far  as  her  life  can  be  said  to  be 


266    . 


NO  NAME. 


in  any  human  hands,  it  is  as  much  in  your 
hands  now  as  in  mine'.  Everything  depends 
on  the  care  that  is  taken  of  her,  under  your 
direction,  in  this  house."  With  those  fare- 
well words  he  rose  and  quitted  the  room. 

Left  by  himself,  Kirke  walked  to  the  door 
of  communication,  and  knocking  at  it  softly 
told  the  landlady  he  wished  to  speak  to  her. 

He  was  far  more  composed,  far  more  like 
his  own  resolute  self,  after  his  interview  with 
the  doctor  than  he  had  been  before  it.  A 
man  living  in  the  artificial  social  atmosphere 
which  this  man  had  never  breathed  would 
have  felt  painfully  the  worldly  side  of  the  sit- 
uation —  its  novelty  and  strangeness,  the 
serious  present  difhcult}'^  in  which  it  placed 
him,  the  numberless  misinterpretations  in  the 
future  to  which  it  might  lead.  Kirke  never 
gave  the  situation  a  thought.  He  saw  noth- 
ing but  the  duty  it  claimed  from  him  —  a  duty 
which  the  doctor's  farewell  words  had  put 
plainly  before  his  mind.  Everything  depend- 
ed on  the  care  taken  of  her,  under  his  direc- 
tion, in  that  house.  Tht;re  was  his  responsi- 
bility, and  he  unconsciously  acted  under  it 
exactly  as  he  would  have  acted  in  a  case  of 
emergency  with  women  and  children  on  board 
his  own  ship.  He  questioned  the  landlady  in 
short,  sharp  sentences ;  the  only  change  in 
him  was  in  the  lowered  tone  of  his  voice, 
and  in  the  anxious  looks  which  he  cast,  from 
time  to  time,  at  the  room  where  she  lay. 

"  Do  you  understand  what  the  doctor  has 
told  you  y" 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  The  house  must  be  kept  quiet.  Who  live§ 
in  the  house  ?" 

"  Only  me  and  my  daughter,  Sir ;  we  live 
in  the  parlors.  Times  have  gone  badly  with 
us  since  Lady-Day.  Both  the  rooms  above 
tliis  are  to  let." 

"  I  will  take  them  both,  and  the  two  rooms 
down  here  as  well.  Do'  you  know  of  any  ac- 
tive, trustworthy  man  who  can  run  on  errands 
for  me  V" 

"  Yes,  Sir.     Shall  I  go  — '?" 

"  No.  Let  your  daughter  go.  You  must 
not  leave  the  house  till  the  nurse  comes. 
Don't  send  the  messenger  up  here.  Men  of 
that  sort  tread  heavily.  I  '11  go  down  and 
speak  to  him  ^t  the  door."       '* 

He  went  down  when  the  messenger  came, 
and  sent  him  first,  to  purchase  jxen,  ink,  and 
paper.  The  man's  next  errand  dispatched 
him  to  make  inquii'ies  for  a  person  who  could 
provide  for  deadening  the  sound  of  passing 
wheels  in  the  street  by  laying  down  tan  be- 
fore the  house  in  the  usual  way.  This  object 
accomplished,  the  messenger  received  two 
letters  to  post.  The  first  was  addressed  to 
Kirke's  brother-in-law.  It  told  him,  in  few 
and  plain  words,  what  had  happened,  and  left 
him  to  'break  the  news  to  his  wife  as  he 
thought  best.  The  second  letter  .was  directed 
to  the  landlord  of  the  Aldborough  hotel. 
Magdalen's  assumed  namo  at  North  Shingles 


was  the  only  name  by  which  Kirke  knew  her ; 
and  the  one  chance  of  tracing  her  relatives  , 
that  he  could  discern  was  the  chance  of  dis- 
covering  her   reputed    uncle    and    aunt    by 
means  of  inquiries  starting  from  Aldborough. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon  a  decent, 
middle-aged  woman  t;ame  to  the  house  with  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Merrick.  She  was  well  known 
to  the  doctor  as  a  trustworthy  and  careful 
person,  who  had  nursed  his  own  wife  ;  and  she 
would  be  assisted  from  time  to  time  by  a  lady 
who  was  a  member  of  a  religious  Sisterhood 
in  the  district,  and  whose  compassionate  in- 
terest had  been  warmly  aroused  in  the  case. 
Toward  eight  o'clock  that  evening  the  doctor 
himself  would  call,  and  see  that  his  patient 
wanted  for  nothing. 

The  arrival  of  the  nurse,  and  the  relief  of 
knowing  that  she  was  to  be  trusted,  left  Kirke 
free  to  think  of  himself.  His  luggage  was 
ready  packed  for  his  contemplated  journey  to 
Suffolk  the  next  day.  It  was  merely  neces- 
sary to  transport  it  from  the  hotel  to  the  house 
in  Aaron's  Buildings. 

He  stopped  once  only  on  his  way  to  ,the 
hotel  to  look  at  a  toyshop  iri  one  of  the  great 
thoroughfares.  The  miniature  ships  in  the 
window  reminded  him  of  his  nephew.  '  "  My 
little  namesake  will  be  sadly  disappointed  at 
not  seeing  me  to-morrow,"  he  thought.  "I 
must  make  it  up  to  the  boy  by  sending  him 
something  from  his  uncle."  He  went  into  the 
shop  and  bought  one  of  the  ships.  It  was  se- 
cured in  a  box,  and  packed  and  directed  in 
his  presence.  He  put  a  card  on  the  deck  of 
the  miniature  vessel  before  the  cover  of  the 
box  was  nailed  on,  bearing  this  inscription : 
"  A  ship  for  the  little  sailor  —  with  the  big 
sailor's  love."  "  Children  like  to  be  written 
to,  ma'am,"  he  said,  apologetically,  to  the 
woman  behind  the  Counter.  "  Send  the  box 
as  soon  as  you  can.  I  am  anxious  the  boy 
should  get  it  to-morrow."  ,  , 

Toward  the  dusk  of  the  evening  he  returned 
with  his  luggage  to  Aaron's  Buildings.  He 
took  ofi"  his  boots  in  the  passage,  and  carried 
his  trunk  up  stairs  himself,  stopping,  as  he 
passed  the  first  floor,  to  make  his  inquiries. 
Mr.  Merrick  was  present  to  answer  them. 

"  She  ^as  awake,  and  Avandering,"  he  said, 
"  a  few  minutes  since.  But  we  have  succeeded 
in  composing  her,  and  she  is  sleeping  now." 

"  H^ve  no  words  escaped  her.  Sir,  which 
might  help  us  to  find  her  friends  V"  ' 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  Weeks  and  weeks  may  pass  yet,"  he  said, 
"  and  that  poor  gii'i's  story  may  still  be  a  sealed 
secret  to  all  of  us.     We  can  only  wait." 

So  the  day  ended  —  the  first  of  many  days 
that  were  to  come.  . 


chaptAi  II. 

The  warm  sunlight  of  July  shining  softly 
through  a  green  blind ;  an  open  window  with 
fresh  rtowers  set  on  the  sill ;  a  strange  bed  in 


NO  NAAIK. 


iti; 


a  straijgo  rooui ;  a  giaui  (igiu-c  of  tlir  fomale 
sex  (like  a  dream  ol'  Mrs.  Wragge)  loweriug 
aloft  ou  one  side  of  the  bed,  and  frying  to  claj) 
its  hands ;  another  woman  (_a  stranger)  stop- 
ping the  hands  before  they  conld  make  any 
noise;  a  mild, expostulating  voiee  (like  a  dream 
of  Mrs.  Wragge  again)  breaking  the.  silenee  in 
these  words :  "  She  knows  me,  ma'am,  slie 
knows  me ;  if  I  mustn't  be  happy  it  will  be 
the  death  of  me  !" — sueh  were  tho  first  sights, 
such  were  the  first  souud.s  <o  whieh,  after  six 
weeks  of  oblivion,  Magdalen  suddenly  and 
strangely  awoke. 

After  a  little  tlie  sights  grew  dim  again,  and 
the  sounds  ftank  into  silence.  Sleep,  the  mer- 
ciful, took  her  once  more,  and  hushed  hei-  back 
to  repose. 

Another  day.  and  the  sights  were  dearer, 
the  sounds  were  louder.  Another,  and  she 
heard  a  man's  voice  through  the  door,  asking 
for  news  from  the  sick-room.  The  voice  was 
strange  to  her ;  it  was  always  cautiously  low- 
ered to  the  same  (piiet  tone.  It  inquired  after 
her  in  the  morning  when  she  awoke,  at  noon 
when  she  took  her  refreshment,  in  the  evening 
before  she  dropped  to  sleep  again.  "Who  is 
so  an.Kious  about  me?"  That  was  the  first 
thought  her  mind  was  strong  enough  to  form : 
"  W'ho  is  so  anxious  about  me  V" 

More  days  —  and  she  could  speak  to  the 
nurse  at  her  bedside ;  she  could  answer  the 
questions  of  an  elderly  man,  who  knew  far 
more  about  her  thaft  she  knew  about  herself, 
and  who  told  her  he  was  Mr.  Merrick,  the 
doctor ;  she  could  sit  up  in  bed  supported  by 
pillows,  wondering  what  had  happened  to  her, 
and  where  she  was;  she  could  feel  a  growing 
curiosity  about  that  quiet  voice,  which  still 
asked  after  her,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  ou 
the  other  side  of  the  door. 

Another  day's  delay  —  and  Mr.  Merrick 
asked  her  if  she  was  strong  enough  to  see  an 
old  friend.  A  meek  voice  behind  him,  articu- 
lating'high  in  the  air,  said,  "It  's  only  me  !" 
The  voice  was  followed  by  the  prodigious 
bodily  apparition  of  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  her 
cap  all  awry,  and  one  of  her  shoes  in  the  next 
room.  "  Oh,  look  at  her  !  look  at  her  !"  cried 
Mrs.  Wragge,  in  an  ecstacy,  dropping  on  her* 
knees  at  Magdalen'.?  bedside,  with  a  thump 
that  shook  the  house.  "  Bless  her  heart,  she's 
well  enough  to  laugli  af  me  already.  '  Cheer, 
boys,  cheer — !'  I  beg  your  pardon,  doctor, 
my  conduct  isn't  lady -like,  I  know.  It  *s  mj' 
head.  Sir ;  it  isn't  me.  I  must  get  vent  some- 
how, or  my  head  will  burst!"  No  coherent 
sentence,  in  answer  to  anj-  sort  of  question 
put  to  her,  could  be  extracted  that  morning 
from  Mrs.  Wragge.  She  ro.se  from  one  climax 
of  verbal  confusion  to  another,  and  finished 
her  visit  under  the  bed,  groping  inscrutably 
for  the  second  shoe. 

The  morrow  came,  and  Mr.  Merrick  prom- 
ised that  she  should  see  another  old  fiiend  on 
the  next  day.  In  the  evening,  when  the  in- 
quiring voice"  a.sked  after  her.  as  usual,  and 


when  the  duor  was  upenwl  a  few  ineiies  to  givK 
the  reply,  she  answered  faintly  for  herself:  "  I 
am  better,  thank  you."  There  was  a  moment 
of  silence;  and  then,  just  as  the  door  was  shut 
again,  the  voio<!  sank  to  a  whisper,  and  .said, 
fervently,  "  Thank  God  !  "  Who  was  he  V 
She  had  asked  them  all,  and  no  one  would  tell 
her.     Who  was  he  V 

Tlie  next  day  came,  and  she  heard  Uer  door 
opened  softly.  Brisk  footsteps  tripped  into 
the  room ;  a  lithe  little  figure  advanced  to  tlie 
bedside.  Was  it  a  dream  again  ?  No  !  There 
he  was  in  his  own  evergreen  reality,  with.the 
copious  flow  of  language  pouring  smoothly 
from  his  lips ;  with  the  lambent  dasli  of  humor 
twinkling  in  his  parti-colored  eyes,  there  he 
was,  more  audacious,  more  persuasive,  more 
respectable  than  ever;  in  a  suit  of  glossy 
black,  with  a  speckless  white  cravat,  and  a 
rampant  shirt-frill— the  unblushing,  the  invin- 
cible, tlie  unchangeable  Wragge  ! 

"  Not  a  word,  my  dear  girl !"  said  the  cap- 
tain, seating  himself  comfortably  at  the  bed- 
side. In  his  old  confidential  way.  "  I  am  to 
do  all  the  talking ;  and  I  think  you  will  own 
that  a  more  competent  man  for  the  purpo.se 
could  not  po.ssibly  have  been  found.  I  am 
really  delighted — honestly  delighted,  if  I  may 
use  sueh  an  apparently  inapprojiriate  word — 
to  see  you  again,  and  to  see  you  getting  well. 
I  have  often  thought  of  you ;  I  have  oflen 
missed  you ;  I  have  often  said  to  my.sclf — 
never  mind  what !  Clear  the  stage,  and  drop 
the  curtain  on  .the  past.  Dum  vivimus,  viva- 
mus  !  Pardon  the  pedantry  of  a  Latin  quota-  > 
tion,  my  dear,  and  tell  me  how  I  look.  Am 
I,  or  am  I  not,  the  picture  of  a  prosperous 
man  V" 

Magdalen  attempted  to  answer  him.  The 
captain's  deluge  of  words  flowed  over  her 
again  in  a  moment. 

"  Don't  exert  yourself,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  put 
all  your  questions  for  you.  What  have  I  been 
about?  Why  do  I  look  so  remarkably  well 
off?  And  how  in  the  world  did  I  find  iby 
way  to  this  house  ?  My  dear  girl,  I  have  been 
occupied,  since  we  last  saw  each  other,  in 
slightly  modifying  my  old  professional  habits. 
I  have  shifted  from  Moral  Agriculture  to 
Medical  Agriculture.  Formerly  I  preyed  on 
the  public  sympathy ;  now  I  prey  on  the 
public  stomach.  Stomach  and  sympathv. 
sympathy  and  stomach — look  them  both  fairly 
in  the  face  when  you  reach  the  wrong  side  of 
fifty,  and  you  will  agree  with  me  that  they 
come  to  much  the  same  thing.  However  that 
may  be,  here  I  am  —  incrediljle  a,s  it  may  ap- 
pear—  a  man  with  an  income,  at  last.  The 
founders  of  my  fortune  are  three  in  number. 
Their  names  are  Alo<'8,  Scammony,  and  Gam- 
boge. In  plainer  words,  I  am  now  living — on 
a  Pill.  I  made  a  little  money  (if  you  remem« 
ber)  by  mv  friendly  connection  with  you.  I 
made  a  little  more  by  the  happy  decease 
(Rcquiescat  in  Pace .')  of  that  female  relative 
of  Mrs.  Wragge 's  from  whom,  as  I  told  you. 


268 


NO  NAME. 


my  wife  had  expectations.  Very  good.  What 
do  you  think  I  did '?  I  invested  the  whole  of 
my  capital  at  one  fell  swoop  in  advertisements, 
and  purchased  my  drugs  and  iliy  pill-boxes  on 
credit.  The  result  is  now  before  you.  Here 
I  am,  a  Grand  Financial  Fact.  Here  I  am, 
with  my  clothes  positively  paid  for;  with  a 
balance  at  my  banker's  ;  with  my  servant  in 
livery,  and  my  gig  at  the  door;  solvent,  flour- 
ishing, popular — and  itll  on  a  Pill." 

Magdalen  smiled.  The  captain's  face  as- 
sumed an  expression  of  mock  gravity;  he 
looked  as  if  there  was  a  serious  side  to  the 
question,  and  as  if  he  meant  to  put  it  next. 

"  It 's  no  lailghing  matter  to  the  public,  my 
dear,"  he  said.     "  They  can't  get  rid  of  me 
and  my  Pill  —  the}^  must  take  us;     There '  is 
not  a  single  form  of  appeal  in  the  whole  range  I 
of  human   advertisements   which   I   am   not  j 
making  to  the  unfortunate  public  at  this  mo-  i 
ment.     Hire  the  last  new  novel — there  I  am,  j 
inside  the  boarfls  of  the  book.     S«nd  for  the  , 
last  new  Song  —  the  instant  you  open   the  f 
leaves  I  drop  out  of  it.     Take  a  cab — I  fly  in 
at  the  window  in  red.     Buy  a  box  of  tooth- 
powder  at  the  chemist's — I  wrap  it  up  for  you 
m  blue.     Show  yourself  at  the  theatre  —  I 
flutter  down  on  you  in  yellow.     The  mere 
titles  of  my  adveitisements  are  quite  irresist-  j 
ible.     Let  me  quote  a  few  from  last  week's  j 
issue.      Proverbial  Title :    '  A  Pill  in   Time 
saves  Nine.'      Familiar  Title  :  '  Excuse  me, 
how    is    your    Stomach '?'      Patriotic    Title : ; 
'  What  are  the  three  characteristics  of  a  true- 1 
born  Englishman  ?     His  Hearth,  his  Home,  1 
and  his  Pill.'     Title  in  the  form  of  a  nursery  ! 
dialogue  :  '  Mamma,  I  am  not  well.'     '  What  | 
is  the  matter,  my  pet  ?'     '  I  want  a  little  Pill.'  \ 
Title  in  the  form  of  a  Historical  Anecdote  : 
'  New  Discovery  in  the  Mine  of  English  His- 
tory.    When  the  Princes  were  smothered  in 
the  Tower,  their  faithful  attendant  collected 
all    the  little   possessions  left   behind   them. 
Among  the  touching  trifles  dear  to  the  poor 
boys  he  found  a  tiny  Box.     It  contained  the 
Pill  of  the  Period.     Is  it  necessary  to  sa}'  how 
inferior  that  Pill  was  to  its  Modern  Successor, 
which  prince  and  peasant  alike  may  now  ob- 
tain— '  Et  cetera,  et -cetera.      The  place  in 
which  my  Pill  is  made  is  an  advertisement  in 
itself     I  have  got  one  of  the  largest  shops  in 
London.     Behind  one  counter  (visible  to  the 
public  through  the  lucid  medium  of  plate  - 
glass)  .are  four -and -twenty  young  men,  in 
white  aprons,  making  the  Pill.     Behind  an- 
other counter  are  foiir  -  and  -  twenty  young 
men,  in  white  cravats,  making  the  boxes.    At 
the  bottom  of  the  shop  are  three  elderly  ac- 
countants posting  the  vast  financial  transac- 
tions accruing  from  the  Pill  in  three  enormous 
ledgers.      Over  the  door  are  my  name,  por- 
trait, and    autograph,  expanded  to  colossal 
proportions,  and  surrounded  In  flowing  letters 
by  the  motto  of  the  establishment :   '  Down 
with  the  Doctors  !'    Even  Mrs.  Wragge  con- 
tributes her  quota  to  this  prodigious  enter- 


prise. She  is  the  celebrated  woman  whom  I 
have  cured  of  ihdescribable  agonies  from  ever}- 
complaint  under  the  sun.  Her  portrait  is  en- 
graved on  all  the  wrappers,  with  the  following 
mscription  beneath  it :  '  Before  she  took  the 
Pill  you  might  have  blown  this  patient  away 
with  a  feather.  Look  at  her  now  ! ! !'  Last, 
not  least,  my  dear  girl,  the  Pill  is  the  cause  of 
my  finding  my  way  to  this  house.  My  depart- 
ment in  the  prodigious  Enterprise  already 
mentioned  is  tO'  scour  the  United  Kingdom 
in  a  gig,  establishing  Agencies  everywhere. 
While  founding  one  of  these  Agencies  I  heard 
of  a  certain  friend  of  mine,  who  had  lately 
landed  in  England  after  a  long  sea-voyage.  I 
got  his  address  in  London — he  was  a  lodger  in 
this  house.  I  called  on  him  forthwith,  and 
was  stunned  by  the  news  of  your  illness. 
Such,  in  brief,  is. the  history  of  my  existing 
connection  with  British  Medicine ;  and  so  it 
happens  that  you  see  me  at  the  present  mo- 
ment sitting  in  tlie  present  chair,  now  as  ever, 
yours  truly,  Horatio  Wrag*e,"   . 

In  these  terms  the  captain  brought  hig  per- 
sonal statement  to  a  close.  He  looked  more 
and  more  attentively  at  Magdalen  the  neafer 
he  got  to  the  conclusion.  Was  there  some 
latent  importance  attaching  to  his  last  words 
which  did .  not  appear  on  the  face  of  them  V 
There  was.  His  visit  to  the  sick-room  had  a 
serious  obje(-t,  and  that  object  he  had  now  , 
approached. 

In  describing  the  circumsitances  under  which 
he  had  become  acquainted  with  Magdalen's 
present  position  Captain  Wragge  had  skirted, 
with  hi«  customary  dextei-ity,  round  the  i-emote 
boundaries  of  truth.  Emboldened  by  the  ab- 
sence of  any  jjublic  scandal  in  connection  with 
Noel  Vanstone's  marriage,  or  with  the  event 
of  his  death  as  announced  in  the  newspaper 
obituary,  the  captain,  roaming  the  eastern  cir- 
cuit, had  ventured  back  to  Aldborough  a  fort- 
night since,  to  establish  an  agency  there  for 
the  sale  of  his  wonderful  Pill.  No  one  had 
recognized  him  but  the  landlad}-  of  the  hotel, 
who  at  once  insisted  on  his  entering  the  house 
and  reading  Kirke's  letter  to  her  husband. 
The  same  night  Captain  Wragge  was  in  Lon- 
don, and  was  closeted  with  the-  sailor,  in  the 
second-floor  room  at  Aaron's  Buildings. 

The  serious  natui-e  of  the  situation,  the  in- 
disputable certainty  that  Kirke  must  fail  in 
tracing  Magdalen's  friends,  unless  he  first  knew 
who  she  really  was,  had  decided  the  captain 
on  disclosing  pai't,  at  "least,  of  the  truth.  De- 
cHning  to  enter  into  any  particulars  —  for 
family  reasons,  which  Magdalen  might  explain 
on  her  recovery,  if  she  pleased — he  astounded 
Kirke  by  telling  him  that  the  friendless  woman 
whom  he  had  rescnied,  and  whom  he  had  only 
known  up  to  that  moment  as  Miss  Bygrave, 
was  no  other  than,  the  youngest  daughter  of 
Andrew  Vanstone,  The  disclosure,  on  Kirke's 
side,  of  his  father's;  connection  with  the  young 
officer  in  Canada  Had  followed  naturally  on 


NO  NAME. 


269 


the  revelation  of  Magdalen's  real  name.  Cap- 1 
tain  Wragge  had  expressed  his  surprise,  but 
had  made  no  further  remark  at  the  time.  A  j 
fortnight  later,  ho-wever,  when  the  patient's  I 
recovery  forced  the  serious  difHculty  on  the  ; 
doctor  of  meeting  the  questions  AVhich  Mag- 
dalen was  sure  to  ask,  the  captain's  ingenuity  | 
had  come,  as  usual,  to  the  re.'^cue.  i 

"  You   can't  tell  her   the   truth,"   he  said,  '■ 
••  without  awakening  painful  recollections  of 
her  stay  at  Aldborough,  into  which  I  am  hot  1 
at  liberty  to  enter.     Don't  acknowledge  just  , 
yet  that  Mr.  Kirke  only  knew  her  as  Miss  j 
Bygrave  of  North  Shingles  wh(>n  he  found  her 
ill  this  house.     Tell  her  boldly  that  he  knew 
who  she  was,  and  that  he  lelt  (what  she  must  j 
feel)  that  he  had  a  hereditary  right  to  help 
and  protect  her  as  his  father's  son.     1  am,  as  i 
1  have  already  told  you."  continued  the  caj)-  i 
tjain.  sticking  fast  to  his  old  assertion,  ;'  a  dis- 
tant relative  of  the  Combe-Iiaven  family  ;  and 
if  there  is  nobody  else  at  hand  to  heli>  }OU 
through  this  difliculty,  my  services  are  freely 
at  your  disposal." 

No  one  else  was  at  hanti,  and  the  emergency 
was  a  serious  one.  Strangers  undertaking  the 
responsibility  might  ignorantly  jar  on  past  rw- 
olleetions,  which  it  M'onld.  jierhaps,  be  the 
death  of  her  to  revive  too  soon.  Near  rela- 
tives nright,  by  their  premature  ap])earance  at 
the  bedside,  produee  the  ^iunt'  deplorable  re- 
sult. The  alternative  lay  between  irritating 
and  alarming  her  by  leaving  her  incjuiries  un- 
answered, or  trusting  Captain  Wragge.  In 
the  doctor's  opinion,  the  second  risk  was  the 
least  serious  risk  of  the  two  :  and  the  caj)tain 
was  now  seated  at  Magdah-n's  l)e<lside  in  dis- 
charge of  the  trust  confided  tu  him.. 

Would  she  iisk  the  (juestiou  which  ii  bad 
been  the  private  object  of  all  Captain  Wragge's 
preliminary  talk  lightly  and  j)leasantly  to  pro- 
voke y  Yes :  as  soon  as  his  silence  gave  her  the 
opportunity  she  asked  it :  Who  was  that  friend 
of  his  living  in  the  house  V 

"You  ought  by  rights  to  know  hint  as  well 
as  I  do,"  said  the  captain.  "He  is  the  son  of 
one  of  your  father's  old  military  friends,  when 
your  father  waj;([uartered  with  hi.s  regiment  in 
Canada.  Your  cheeks  mustn't  flusli  u|).  If 
they  do,  I  shall  gv)  away." 

She  was  astonished,  but  not  agitated.  Cap- 
tain Wragge  had  begun  by  interesting  her  in 
the  remote  past,  which  she  only  knyw  by  hear- 
say, before  he  ventured  on  the  <ieli<ate  groimd 
of  her  own  experience. 

In  a  moment  more  she  advanced  to  her  next 
question  :  What  was  his  name  ? 

"Kirke,"  proceeded  the  captain.  "Did  you 
never  hear  of  his  father.  Major  Kirke,  com- 
manding officer  of  the  regiment  in  Canada  '/ 
Did  you  never  hear  that  the  major  helped  your 
father  through  a  great  difficulty,  like  the  best 
of  gootl  fellows  and  good  friends':*" 

Yes ;  she  faintly  fancied  she  had  heard  some- 
thing about  her  father  and  an  officer  who  had 


once  been  very  good  to  him  when  he  was  a 
young  man.  But  she  could  not  look  back  so 
long.     Was  Mr.  Kirke  poor  ? 

Even  Captain  Wragge's  penetration  was 
puzzled  by  that  qiiestion.  He  gare  the  true 
answer  at  hazard.     "No,"  he  said,  "not  poor." 

Her  next  in(piiry  showed  what  she  had  been 
thinking  of  If  ]\lr.  Kirke  was  not  poor,  why 
did  he  come  to  live  in  that  house"? 

"She  has  caught  me  !"  thought  the  captain. 
"There  is  only  one  way  Out  of  it;  I  must  ad- 
minister another  dose  ol^  truth.  Mr.  Kirke  dis- 
covered you  here  by  chance,"  he  proceeded 
aloud,  "very  ill,  and  not  nicely  attended  ta. 
Somebody  \/as  wanted  to  take  care  of  yoU(|prhile 
you  were  not  able  to  take  care  of  yourself. 
Why  notAb".  Kirke  "?  He  was  the  son  of  your 
father's  old  friend,  which  is. the  next' thing  tq 
being  t/om-  old  friend.  Who  had  a  better  claii# 
to  send  for  the  right  doctor  and  get  the  right 
nurse,  wiien  1  was  not  here  to  cure  you  with 
my  woiuierfid  Till  ?  Gently  I  gently  I  you 
mustn't  take  hold  of  my  superfine  black  coat 
sleeve  in  that  umeremonious  manner." 

He  put  lu-r  hand  back  on  the  bed  ;  but  she 
was  not  to  be  checked  in  that  way.  She  per- 
sisted In  asking  another  question.  How 
came  ]\Ir.  ivirke  to  know  herV  She  had 
never  s<*t'n  him :  she  had  never  heard  of  him 
in  her  life. 

"  Very  likely,"  said  the  captain.  "  But 
your  never  having  .seen  him  is  no  reason  why 
he  should  not  have  seen  >^ou-" 

"  When  did  he  see  me  '?" 

Captain  Wragge  corked  up  his  doses  of 
truth  on  the  spot  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion. 

"  Some  time  ago,  my  dear.  I  ean't  exactly 
say  when." 

"  Onlv  once  T' 

Captain  Wragge  suddenly  saw.  his  way  to 
the  administration  of  another  dose.  "  ^'e»," 
he  sukl.     "  Only  onee." 

•She  reflected  a  little.  The  next  question 
luvolvi'd  the  simultaneous  e.xpression  of  two 
ideas — and  the  next  question  cost  her  an 
eilbrf. 

'^  He  only  .siw  me  once,"  she  said ;  "  aud 
he  only  saw  nu'  some  time  agfi.  How  came 
he  to  remember  me  when  he  fouml  me  here  '?" 

"  Aha!"  .'iaid  the  captain.  "  Now. you  have 
hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  at  1a?t.  You 
can't  po.^slbly  be  more  .-surprised  af  diis  re- 
membering you  than  I  am.  .\.  word  ofJidrice, 
my  dear.  When  you  are  well  enough  to  get 
up  and  see  Mr.  Kirke.  try  how  that  sharp 
question  of  yours  sounds  in  hui  ears  —  and 
insist  on  his  answering  it  himself."  Slipping 
out  of  the  dilemma  in  that  characterisiticallv 
adroit  manner.  Captain  Wragge  got  brisklv 
on  his  legs  again  and  took  up  his  hat. 

"Wait!"  she  pleaded.  "I  want  to  ask 
you  —  " 

"  Not  another  wDrd."  ttaid  the  captain.  I 
have  given  vou  quit«  enough  to  think  of  for 
one  day.     My  time  is  up,  and  my  gig  is  wait- 


270 


NO  NAME. 


ing  for  me.  I  am  off  to  scour  the  country  as 
usual.  I  am  ofT  to  cultivate  the  field  of  pub- 
lic indigestion  with  tlie  triple  ploughshare  of 
aloes,  scammony,  and  gamboge."  He  stopped, 
and  turned  round  at  the  door.  "By  the  by, 
H  message  from  my  unfortunate  wife.  If  you 
will  allow  her  to  come  and  see  you  again, 
Mrs.  Wragge  solemnly  promises  nut  to  lose 
her  shoe  next  time.  /  don't  believe  her. 
What  do  you  say  ?    May  she  come  V" 

"Yes;  whenever  she  likes,"  said  Magda- 
len. "  If  I  ever  get  well  again,  may  poor 
Mrs.  Wragge  come  and  stay  with  me  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear.  If  you  have  no  ob- 
jectii^n,  I  will  provide  her  beforehand  with  a 
few  thousand  impressions  in  red,  blue,  and 
yellow  of  her  own  portrait  ('  You  might  have 
blown  this  patient  away  with  a  feather  before 
she  took  the  Pill.  Look  at  her  now!').  She 
is  sure  to  drop  herself  about  perpetually 
wherever  she  goes,  and  the  most  gratifying 
results,  in  an  advertising  point  of  view,  must 
inevitably  follow.  Don't  think  me  mercenary. 
I  merely  understand  the  age  I  live  in."  He 
stopped  on  his  way  out  for  the  second  time, 
and  turned  round  once  more  at  the  door. 
"  You  have  been  a  remarkably  good  girl,"  he 
said,  "  and  you  deserye  to  l^e  rewarded  for  it. 
T  '11  give  you  a  last  piec?"of  information  be- 
fore I  go.  Have  you  heard  anybody  inquiring 
after  you,  for  the  last  day  or  two,  outside  your 
door  ?  Ah,  I  see  you  have.  A  word  in  your 
ear,  my  dear.  That  's  Mr.  Kirke."  He  trip- 
ped away  from  the  bedside  as  briskly  as  ever. 
Magdalen  heard  him  advertising  himself  to  the 
nurse  before  he  closed  the  door.  "  If  you  are 
ever  asked  about  it,"  he  said,  in  a  confiden- 
tial whisper,  "the  name  is  Wragge;  and  the 
Pip  is  to  be  hfyl  in  neat  boxes,  price  thirteen- 
])ence-halfpenny,  government  stamp  included. 
Take  a  few  copies  of  the  portrait  of  a  female 
])atient  whom  you  might  have  blown  away 
with  a  feather  before  she  took  the  Pill',  and 
whom  you  are  simply  requested  to  contem- 
plate now.      Many  thanks.      (?oot?-morning." 

The  door  closed,  and  Magdalen  was  alone 
again.  •  She  felt  no  sense  of  solitude ;  Cap- 
tain Wragge  had  left  her  with  something  new 
to  think  of.  Hour  after  hour  her  mind  dwelt 
wonderiugly  on  Mr.  Kirke,  until  the  evening 
came  and  she  heard  his  voice  again  through 
the  hair-opened  door. 

"  I*am  very  grateful,"  she  said  to  him,  be- 
ibre  the  nurse  could  answer  Ijis  inquiries  — 
"  very,  very  grateful  for  all  your  kindness  to 
me." 

"Try  to  get  well,"  he  replied,  kindly. 
_"  You  will  more  than  reward  me  if  you  try  to 
get  well." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Merrick  found  her 
impatient  to  leave  her  bed  and  be  moved  to 
the  sofa  in  the  front  room.  The  doctor  said 
he  supposed  she  wanted  a  change.  "Yes," 
she  replied,  "  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Kirke."    The 


d*ctor  consented  to  move  her  on  the  next 
day,  but  he  positively  forbade  the  additional 
excitement  of  seeing  anybod}-  imtil  the  da} 
after.  She  attempted  a  remonstrance  —  Mi-. 
Merrick  was  impenetrable.  She  triedi  when 
he  was  gone,  to  win  the  nurse  by  persuasion 
—  the  nurse  was  impenetrable  too. 

On  the  next  day  they  wrapped  her  in 
shawls  and  carried  her  in  to  the  sofa,  and 
made  her  a  little  bed  on  it.  On  the  table 
near  at  hand  were  some  flowers  and  a  num- 
ber of  an  illustrated  newsjiaper.  ,  She  krime- 
diately  asked  who  had  put  them  there.  The 
nurse  (failing  to  notice  a  warning  look  from 
the  doctor)  said  Mr.  Kirke  had  thought  that 
she  might  like  the  flowers,  and  that  the  pic- 
tures in  the  paper  might  amuse  her.  Aller 
that  reply  her  anxiety  to  see  Mr.  Kirke  be- 
camc»  too  ungovernable  to  be  trifled  with. 
The  (loctoi-  left  the  room  at  once  to  fetch  him. 

She  looked  eagerly  at  the  opening  dooj*. 
Her  fij-st  glance  at  him  as  he  came  in  raised  a 
doubt  in  her  mind  whether  she  now  saw  that 
tall  figure  and  that  open,  sunburnt  face  for 
the  first  time.  But  she  was  too  weak  and  too 
agitated  to  follow  her  recollections  as  far 
back  as  Aldborough.  She  resigned  the  at- 
tempt, mid  only  looked  at  him.  He  stopped 
at  the  foot  of  the  sofa  and  said  a  few  cheer- 
ing words.  She  beckoned  to  him  to  come 
nearer,  and  ort"ered  him  her  wasted  hand.  He 
tenderly  took  it  in  his,  and  sat  down  by  her. 
They  were  both  silent.  His  face  told  her  of 
the  sorrow  and  the  sympathy  which  his  si- 
lence would  fain  have  concealed.  She  still 
held  his  hand  —  consciously  now  —  as  per- 
sistently as  she  had  held  it  on  the  day  T*herf 
he  found  her.  Her  eyes  closed  after  a  vain 
effort  to  speak  to  him,  and  the  tears  rolled 
slowly  over  her  Avan  white  cheeks. 

The  doctor  signed  to  Kirke  to  wait  and 
give  her  time.  She  recovered  a  little  and 
looked  at  him  :  "  How  kind  you  have  been  to 
me!"  she  murmured.  "And  how  little  I  have, 
deserved  it ! "  ,      . 

"  Hush  !  hush !"  he  said.     "  You  don't  know, 
what  a  happiness  it  was  to  me  to  help  you." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  seemed  to  strength- 
en her,  and  to  give  her  courage.  She  laj' 
looking  at  him  with  an  eager  interest,  with  a 
gratitude  which  artlessly  ignored  all  the  coa- 
ventional  restraints  that  interpose  between  a 
woman  and  a  man.  "  Where  did  you  see  me," 
she  said,  suddenly,  "before  you  found  me 
here  ?" 

Kirke  hesitated.  Mr.  Merrick  came  to  his 
assistance. 

"  I  forbid  you  to  say  a  wOrd  about  the  past 
to  Mr.  Kirke,"  interposed  the  doctor ;  "  and  I 
forbid  Mr.  Kirke  to  say  a  word  about  it  to 
you.  You  are  beginning  a  new  life  to-day ; 
and  the  only  recollections  I  sanction  are  rec- 
ollections five  minutes  old." 

She  looked  at  the  doctor  and  smiled.  "  I 
must  ask  him  one  question,"  she  said,  and 


No  a  AUK 


2?i 


tlirned  back  again  to  Kirke.     "  Is  it  true  that 
you  had  only  seen  me  once  before  you  came 
/'to  this  liouse  ?" 

"  Quite  true  !"  He  made  t^e  reply  with  a 
sudden  change  of  color,  which  she  instantly 
detected.  Her  brightening  eyes  looked  at 
him  more  earnestly  than  ever  as  she  put  her 
next  question :    ' 

"  How  came  you  to  remember  me  after  only 
seeing  me  once  ?" 

His  hand  unconsciously  closed  on  hers,  and 
pressed  it  for  the  first  time.  He  attempted 
to  answer,  and  hesitated  at  the  first  word.  "I 
have  a  good  memory,"  he  said  at  last,  and 
•suddenly  looked  away  from  her  with  a  confu- 
sion so  strangely  unlike  his  customary  self- 
possession  of  manner  that  the  doctor  and  the 
nurse  both  noticed  it. 

Every  nerve  in  her  body  felt  that  momen- 
tary pressure  of  his  hand  with  the  exquisite 
susceptibility  which'  accompanies  the  first  fal- 
tering advance  on  the  way  to  health.  She 
looked  at.  his  changing  color,  she  listened  to 
his  hesitating  words,  with  every  sensitive  per- 
ception of  her  sex  and  age  quickened  to  seize 
intuitively  on  the  truth.  In  the  moment  when 
he  looked  away  from  her  she  gently  took  her 
hand  from  him  and  turned  her  head  aside  on 
the  pillow.  "  Can  it  be  ?"  she  thought,  with  a 
Mutter  of  delicious  fear  at  her  heart,  with  a 
glow  of  delicious  confusion  burning  on  her 
cheeks.     "  Can  it  be  V" 

The  doctor  made  another  sign  to  Kirke.  He 
understood  it,  and  rose  immediately.  The 
momentary  discomposure  in  his  face  and  man- 
ner had  both  disappeared.  He  was  satisfied 
in  his  own  mind  that  he  had  successfully  kept 
his  secret,  and  in  the  relief  of  feeling  that 
conviction  he  had  become  himself  again.  ' 

"  Good-by,  till  to-morrow,"  he  said,  as  he 
left  the  room. 

"  Good  -  by,"  she  answered,  softly,  without 
looking  at  him. 

^Ir.  Merrick  took  the  chair  which  Kirke 
had  resigned  and  laid  his  hand  on  her  pulse. 
"  Just  what  I  feared,"  remarked  the  doctor ; 
"  too  quick  by  half"  ' 

,  She  petulantly  snatched  away  her  wrist. 
'  Don't  I"  she  said,  shrinking  back  from  him. 
''  Pray  don't  touch  mc  !" 

Mr.  Merrick  good  -  h.nraoredly  gave  up  his 
place  to  the  nurse.  "  I  '11  return  in  half  an 
nour,"  he  whispered,  *'  and  carry  her  back  to 
bed.  Uon't  let  her  talk.  Show  her  the  pic- 
tures in  the  ncw.spaper,  and  keej)  hei'  quiet  in 
that  way." 

When  the  doctor  returned  the  nur.sc  reports 
ed  that  the  newspaper  had  not  been  wanted. 
The  patient's  conduct -Jiad  Ih'cu  exemplary. 
She  had  not  been  at  all  restless,  and  5he  had 
never  sjiokon  a  word. 

The  days  passed,  and  the  tini«  grew  longer  I 
and  longer  which  the  doctor  allowed  her  to 
spend  in  the  front  room.     She  was  soon  able 
to  dispense  with  the   bed   on   the   sofa  —  ."<hf  ' 


could  be  dressed,  and  could  sit  up,  supported 
by  pillows,  in  an  arm  -  chair.  Her  hours  of 
emancipation  from  the  bedroom  represented 
the  great  daily  event  of  her  life.  They  wen- 
the  hours  she  passed  in  Kirke's  society. 

She  had  a  double  interest  in  him  now — her 
interest  in  the  man  whose  nrotecting  care  had 
saved  her  reason  and  her  life  ;  her  interest  in 
the  man  whose  heart's  dearest  and  deepest 
secret  she  had  surprised.  Little  by  little  tlicy 
grew  as  easy  and  familiar  with  each  other  as 
old  friends ;  little  by  little  she  presumed  on 
all  her  privileges,  and  wound  her  way  unsus- 
pected into  the  most  intimate  knowledge  of 
his  nature. 

Her  (juestlons  were  endless.  Everything- 
that  he  could  tell  her  of  himself  and  his  life 
she  drew  from  him,  delicately  and  insensibly : 
he,  the  least  self-conscious  of  mankind,  became 
an  egotist  in  her  dextrous  hands.  She  found 
out  his  pride  in  his  ship,  and  practiced  on  ir 
without  remor.se.  She  drew  him  into  talking 
of  the  fine  qualities  of  the  vessel,  of  the  great 
things  the  vessel  haci  done  in  emergencies,  as , 
he  had  never  in  his  life  talked  yet  to  any  liv- 
ing ci-eature  on  shore.  She  found  him  out  in 
private  seafaring  anxieties  and  unutterable 
seafaring  exultations,  which  he  had  kept  a 
secret  from  his  own  mate.  She  watched  his 
kindling  face  with  a  delicious  sense  of  triumjih 
in  adding  fuel  to  the  fire ;  she  trapped  him 
into  forgetting  all  considerations  of  time  and 
place,  and  striking  as  hearty  a  stroke  on  the 
rickety  little  lodging-house  table,  in  the  fer\  or 
of  his  talk,  as  if  his  hand  had  descended  on 
the  solid  bulwark  of  his  ship.  His  confusion 
at  the  discovery  of  his  own  forgetfulness  se- 
cretly delighted  her;  she  could  hare  cried 
with  pleasure  when  he  penitently  wonden-d 
what  he  could  possibly  have  been  thinking  of. 

At  other  times  she  drew  him  from  dwelling 
on  the  pleasures  of  his  life,  and  led  him  into 
talking  of  its  perils — the  perils  ofthat  jealou* 
mistress  the  sea,  w^iich  had  absorbed  so  much 
of  his  existence,  which  had  kept  hin^  so 
strangely  innocent  and  ignorant  of  the  world 
on  shore.  Twice  he  had  been  shipwrecked. 
Times  innumerable  he  and  all  with  him  had 
been  threatened  with  death,  and  had  escai)ed 
their  doom  by  the  narrowness  of  a  hair's  - 
breadth.  lit'  was  always  unwilling,  at  the 
outset,  to  speak  of  this  dark  and  dreadful' side 
of  his  life:  it  was  only  by  adroitly  tempting 
him,  by  laying  little  snares  for  him  in  his  talk, 
that  she  lured  him  into  telling  her  of  the  ter- 
rors of  the  great  deep.  She  sat  listening  t<> 
him  with  a  breathless  interest,  looking  at  him 
with  a  breathless  wonder,  as  those  fearful 
stories — made  doubly  vivid  by  the  simple  lan- 
guage in  which  he  told  them — fell  one  by  one 
from  his  lips.  His  noble  unconsciousness  of 
his  own  heroism — the  artJess  modesty  with 
which  he  described  his  own  acts  of  dauntless 
endurame  and  devoted  courage,  without  .in 
idea  that  thcv  were  anything  more  than  plain 
acts  of  dutv  to  which  he  wad  bound  by  the 


272 


NO  NAME. 


TOcation  that  he  followed  —  raised  liim  to  a 
place  in  her  estiiijiation  ao  hopelessly  high 
above  her  that  she  became  uneasy  and  im- 
patient until  she  had  pulled  down  the  idol 
again  which  she  herself  had  set  up.  It  was 
on  these  occasions  that  she  most  rigidly  ex- 
acted from  him  all  those  little  familiar  atten- 
tions so  precious  to  women  in  their  intercourse 
with  men.  "  This  hand  " — she  tliought,  with 
an  exquisite  delight  in  secretly  following  the 
idea  while  he  was  close  to  her  —  "  this  hand 
that  has  rescued  the  drowning  from  death  is 
shiiang  my  pillows  so  tenderly  that  1  hardly 
know  when  they  are  moved.  Tliis  hand  that 
has  seized  men  mad  with  mutiny,  and  driven 
them  back  to  their  duty  by  main  force,  is  * 
mixing,  my  lemonade  and  peeling  my  fruit  [ 
more  delicately  and  more  neatly  than  I  could 
do  it  for  myself.  Oh,  if  T  could  be  a  man, 
how  I  should  like  to  be  such  a  mail  as  this  I"  I 

She  never  allowed  her  thoughts,  while  she 
was  in  his  presence,  to  lead  her  beyond  that 
point.     It  was  only  when  the  night  had  sepa- 
rated them  that  she  ventured  to  let  her  mind 
dwell  on  the  self-sacrificing  devotion  which  ' 
had  so  mercifully  rescued  her.     Kirke  little 
knew  -iiow  she  thought  of  him,  in  the  secrecy 
of  her  own  chamber,  during  the  quiet  hoiu's  | 
that  elapsed  before  she  sunk  to  sleep.     No 
suspicion  crossed  his  mind  of  the  influence 
which  he  was  exerting  over  her  — -  of  the  new 
spirit  which  he  was  breathing  into  that  new 
life,  so  sensitively  open  to  impression  in  the 
first  freshness  of  its  recovered  sense  I     "  She 
has  nobody  else  to  amuse  lier,  poor  thing !" 
he  used  to  think,  sadly,  sitting  alone  in   his  , 
small  second-floor  room.     "  If  a  rough  fellow 
like  me  can  beguile  the  weary  hours  till  her 
friends  come  here,  she  is  heartily  welcome  to  ! 
all  that  I  can  tell  her." 

He  was  out  of  spirits  and  restless  now 
whenever  he  was  by  himself.  Little  by  little 
he  fell  into  a  habit  of  taking  long,  lonely  walks 
at  night,  when  Magdalen  thought  he  was 
sle«iping  up  stairs.  Once  he  went  away  ab- 
ruptly in  the  daytime  —  on  business,  as  he 
said.  Something  had  passed  between  Magda- 
len and  himself  the  evening  before  which  had 
led  her  into. telling  him  her  age.  ''Twenty 
last  birthday,"  he  thought.  "  Take  twenty 
from  forty-one  1  An  easy  sum  in  subtraction 
—  as  easy  a  sum  as  my  little  nephcAv  could 
wish  for."  He  walked  to  the  Docks,  and 
looked  bitterly  at  the  shipping.  "  I  mustn't 
forget  how  a  ship  is  made,"  he  said.  "  It 
won't  be  long  before  I  am  back  at  the  old 
work  again."  On  leaving  the  Docks  he  paid 
a  visit  to  a  brother-sailor,  a  married  man.  In 
'  the  course  of  conversation,  he  asked  how 
much  older  his  friend  might  be  than  his 
friend's  wife.  There  was  six  years  difference 
between  them.  '>  I  suppose  that  's  difference 
enough  ?"  said  Kirke.  "  Yes,"  said  his  friend. 
"  Qmte  enough.  Are  you  looking  out  for  a 
Tfife  at  laat  ?     Try  a  seasoned  woman  of  thir- 


ty-five; that 's  your  piark,  Kirke,  as  near  as  t 
can  (calculate." 

The  time  passed  smoothly  and  quickly  — 
the  present  time,  in  which  she  was  recovering 
so  happily  —  the  present  'time  which  he  was 
beginning  to  distrust  already. 

Early  one  morning  Mr.  Merrick  surpi-ised 
Kirke  by  a  visit  in  his  little  room  on  the  sec- 
ond floor. 

"  I  came  to  the  conclusion  yesterday,"  said 
tjie  doctor,  entering  abruptly  on  his  business, 
"  that  our  patient  was  strong  enough  to  justi- 
fy us,  at  last,  in  running  all  risks,  and  com- 
municating with  her  friends  ;  and  I  have  ac- 
cordingly followed  the  clew  which  that  queer 
fellow.  Captain  Wragge,  put  into  our  hands. 
You  remember  he  advised  us  to  apply  to  Mr. 
Pendril,  the  lawyer  V     I  saw  Mr.  Pendril  two 
days  ago,   and   was  referred  by   him  —  not 
over -willingly,   as   I   thought  —  to   a   lady, 
named  Miss  Garth.'     I  heard  enough  from  her 
to  satisfy  me  that  we  have  exercised  a  wise 
caution  in  acting  as  we  have  done.     It  is  a 
very,  very  sad  story  —  and  I  am  bound  to 
say,  that  I  for  one,  make  great  allowances  for 
the  poor  girl  down  stairs.      Her  only  relation 
in  the  world  is  her  elder  sister.     I  have  sug- 
gested that. the  sister  shall  write  to  her  in  the 
first  instance  —  and  then,  if  tlie  letter  does, 
her  no  harm,  follow  it  personally  in  a  day  or 
two.     I  have  not  given  the  address,  by  way 
of  preventing  any  visits  from  being  paid  here 
without  my  permission.     All  I  have  done  is  to 
undertake  to  forward  the  letter ;  and  I  shall 
probably  find  it  at  my  house  when  I  get  back. 
Can  you  stop  at  home  until  I  send  my  man  _ 
with  it?     There  is.  not  the  least -hope  of  my 
being  able  to  bring  it  myself.     All  you  need  . 
do  is  to  watch  for  an  opportunity  when  she  is 
not  in  t*he  front  room,  and  to  put  the  letter 
where  she  can  see  it  when  she  comes  in.    "Ihe 
handwriting  on   the  address  will   break   the 
news  before  she  opens  the  letter.     Say  noth- 
ing to  her  about  it  —  take  care  that  the  land- 
lady is  within  call  —  and  leave  her  to  herself. 
I  know  I  can  trust  you  to  follow  my  direc- 
i  tions;  and  that  is  why  T  ask  you  to  do  us  this 
I  service.     You  look  out  of  spirits  this  morn- 
I  ing.     Natural  enough.     You  're  used  to  plen- 
ty of  fresh  air,  captain,  and  you  're  beginning 
1  to  pine  in  this  close  place." 
i      "  May  I  ask  a  question,  doctor  ?     Is  she 
pining  in  this  close  place,  too  ?     When  her 
sister  comes,  will  her  sister  take  her  away  ?" 
"  Decidedly  —  if  rtiy   advice   is  followed. 
She  will  be  well  enough  to  be  moved  in  a 
week  or  less.     GooJ-day.     You  are  certainly 
out  of  spirits,  and  your  hand  feels  feverish. 
Pining  for  the  blue  water,  captain  —  pining 
for  the  blue  water!"    -With  that  expression 
of  opinion  the  doctor  cheerfully  went  out. 

In  an  hour  the  letter  arrived.  Kirke  took 
it  from  the  landlady  reluctantly,  and  almost 
roughly,  without  looking  at  it.     Having  as- 


NO  NAME. 


273 


eertained  that  Magdalen  was  still  engaged  at 
her  toilet,  and  having  explained  to  the  land- 
lady the  necessity  of  remaining  within  call, 
he  went  down  stairs  immediately  and  put  the 
letter  on  the  table  in  the  front  room. 

Magdalen  heard  the  sound  of  thd  familiar 
step  on  tiie  floor.  "  I  shall  soon  be  ready," 
she  called  to  him  through  the  door. 

He  made  no  reply  —  he  took  his  Jliat  and 
went  out.  After  a  momentary  hesitation  he 
turned  his  face  eastward  and  called  on  the 
ship-owners  who  employed  him,  at  their  office 
in  Cornhill. 


CHAPTER  m. 

Magdalen's  first  glance  round  the  empty 
room  showed  her  the  letter  on  the  table. 
The  address,  as  the  doctor  had  predicted, 
broke  the  news  the  moment  she  looked  at  it. 

Not  a  word  escaped  her.  She  sat  down 
by  the  table,. pale  and  silent,  with  the  letter 
in  her  la(P.  Twice  she  attempted  to  open  it 
and  twice  she  put  it  back  again.  The  by- 
gone time  was  not  alone  in  .her  mind  as  she 
looked  at  her  sister's  handwriting  —  the  fear 
of  Kirke  was  there  with  it.  "  My  past  life !" 
she  thought.  "  What  will  he  think  of  me 
when  he  knows  my  past  life  ?" 

She  made  another  eflbrt  and  broke  the 
seal.  A  second  letter  dropped  out  of  the 
inclosure,  addressed  to  her  in  a  handwriting 
with  which  she  was  not  familiar.  She  put 
the  second  letter  aside,  and  read  the  lines 
which  Norah  had  written  : 

"  Ventnor,  Isle  op  Wight.  Angust  24. 

"  My  dearest  Magdalen  —  When  you 
read  this  letter,  try  to  think  we  have  only 
been  parted  since  j"esterday,  and  dismiss  from 
your  mind  (as  I  have  dismissed  from  mine) 
the  past  and  all  that  belongs  to  it. 

"  I  am  strictly  forbidden  not  to  agitate  you, 
nor  to  weary  you  by  writing  a  long  letter.  Is 
it  wrong  tx)  tell  you  that  I  am  the  happiest 
woman  living  ?  I  hope  not,  for  I  can't  keep 
the  secret  to  myself. 

"  My  darling,  prepare  yourself  for  the  great- 
est surprise  I  have  ever  caused  you.  I  am 
married.  It  is  only  a  week  to-day  since  I 
parted  with  my  old  name  —  it  is  only  a  week 
since  I  have  been  the  happy  wife  of  George 
Bartram,  of  St.  Crux. 

"  There  were  difficulties,  at  first,  in  the 
way  of  our  marriage — some  of  them,  I  am 
afraid,  of  my  making.  Happily  for  me,  my 
husband  knew,  from  the  beginning,  that  I 
really  loved  him ;  he  gave  me  a  second  chance 
of  telling  him  so  after  I  had  lost  the  first,  and, 
as  you  see,  1  was  wise  enough  to  take  it. 
You  ought  to  be  especially  interested,  my 
love,  in  thii  marriage,  for  you  are  the  cause 
of  it.  If  I  had  not  gone  to  Aldborough  to 
search  for  the  lost  trace  of  you  —  if  George 
had  not  been  brought  there,  at  the  samp  time, 
85 


by  circamstances  in  which  you  were  con- 
cerned, my  husband  and  I  might  never  have 
met.  When  we  look  back  to  our  first  im- 
pressions of  each  other  we  look  back  to  you. 
"  I  must  keep  my  promise  not  to  weary 
you ;  I  must  bring  this  letter  (sorely  against 
my  will)  -  to  an  end.  Patience !  patience  !  I 
shall  see  you  soon.  George  and  I  are  both 
coming  to  London  to  take  you  back  with  us 
to  Ventnor.  This  is  my  husband's  invita- 
tion, mind,  as  well  as  mine.  Don't  suppose  I 
married  him,  Magdalen,  until  I  had  taught 
him  to  think  of  you  as  I  think  —  to  wish  with 
my  wishes,  and  to  hope  with  my  hopes.  I 
could  say  so  much  more  about  this,  so  much 
more  about  George,  if  I  might  only  give  my 
thoughts  and  my  pen  their  own  way.  Cut  I 
must  leave  Miss  Garth  (at  her  own  special 
request)  a  blank  space  to  fill  up  on  the  last 
page  of  this  letter ;  and  I  must  only  add  one 
word  more  before  I  say  good-by  —  a  word  to 
warn  you  that  I  have  anothjir  surprise  in 
store,  which  I  am  keeping  in  reserve  until 
we  meet.  Don't  attempt  to  guess  what  it  is. 
You  might  guess  for  ages,  and  be  no  nearer 
than  you  are  now  to  a  discovery  of  the  truth. 
"  Your  affectionate  sister, 

'••  NorAIi  Bartram." 

[ADDKl),  BY    MIS*    GARTH.] 

"  My  dear  Child — If  I  had  ever  lost  my 
old  loving  recollection  of  you,  I  should  feel 
it  in  my  heart  again  now  when  I  know  that 
it  has  pleased  God  to  restore  you  to  us  from 
the  brink  of  the  grave.  I  add  these  lines  to 
your  sister's  letter  because  I  am  not  sure  that 
you  are  quite  so  fit  yet,  as  she  thinks  you,  to' 
accept  her  proposal.  She  has  not  said  a  word 
of  her  husband,  or  herself,  which  is  not  true. 
But  Mr.  Bartram  is  a  stranger  to  you  —  and 
if  you  think  you  can  recover  more  easily  and 
more  pleasantly  to  yourself,  under  the  wing 
of  your  old  governess  than  under  the  pro- 
tection of  your  new  brother-in-law,  come  to 
me  first,  and  trust  to  my  reconciling  Norah 
to  the  change  of  plans.  I  have  secured  the 
refusal  of  a 'little  cottage  at  Shanklin^^near 
enough  to  your  sister  to  allow  of  your  seeing 
each  other  whenever  you  like,  and  far  enough 
away,  at  the  same  time,  to  secure  you  the 
privilege,  when  you  wish  it,  of  being  alone. 
Send  me  one  line,  before  we  meet,  to  say'Yes 
or  No  —  and  I  will  write  to  Shankhn  by  the 
next  post. 

"  Always  yours  affectionately, 

"Harriet  Garth." 

The  letter  dropped  from  Magdalen's  hand. 
Thoughts  which  had  never  risen  in  her  mind 
yet,  rose  in  it  now. 

Norah,  whose  courtigc  under  undeserved 
calamity  had  been  thty  courage  of  resigna- 
tion —  Norah,  who  had  patiently  accepted 
her  hard  lot — who,  from  first  to  last,  bad 
meditated  no  Vengeance,  and  stooped  to  no 
deceit — Norah  had  reached  the  end  ■which 


274 


NO  NAAtEV 


all  ber  sister's  ingenuity,  all  her  sister's  reso- 
lution, and  all  lier  sister's  daring,  had  failed 
to  achieve.  Openly  and  honorably,  with  love 
on  one  side  and  love  on  the  other,  Norah  had 
married  the  man  who  possessed  the  Combe- 
Raven  money  —  and  Magdalen's  own  scheme 
to  recover  it  had  opened  the  way  to  the 
event  which  hadv  brought  husband  and  wife 
together. 

As  the  light  of  that  overwhelming  dis- 
covery broke  on  her  mind  the  old  strife  was 
renewed ;  and  Good  and  Evil  struggled  once 
moi;e  which  should  win  her  —  but  with  added 
forces  this  time  ;  with  the  new  spirit  that  had 
been  breathed  into  her  new  life ;  with  the 
nobler  sense  that  had  grown  with  the  growth 
of  her  gratitude  to  the  man  who  had  saved 
her,  fighting  on  the  better  side.  All  the 
^higher  impulses  of  her  nature,  which  had 
never,  from  first  to  last,  let  her  err  with  im- 
punity —  which  had  tortured  her,  before  her 
marriage  and  after  it,  with  the  remorse  that 
no  woman  inherently  heartless  and  inherently 
wicked  can  feel  —  all  the  nobler  elements  in 
her  character  gathered  their  forces  for  .the 
crowning  struggle,  and  strengthened  her  to 
meet,  with  no  unworthy  shrinking,  the  reve- 
lation that  had  opened  on  her  view.  Clearer 
and  clearer,  in  the  light  of  its  own  immortal 
life,  the  truth  rose  before  her  from  the  ashes 
of  her  dead  passions,  from  the  grave  of  her 
buried  hopes.  When  she  looked  at  the  letter 
again  —  when  she  read  the  words  once  more, 
which  told  her  that  the  recovery  of  the  lost 
fortune  was  her  sister's  triumph,  not  hers, 
she  had  victoriously  trampled  down  all  little 
jealousies  and  all  mean  regrets;  she  could 
say  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  ""Norah  has  de- 
served it!" 

The  day  wore  on.  She  sat  absorbed  in  her 
own  thoughts,  and  heedless  of  the  second  let- 
ter, which  she  had  not  opened  yet,  until  Kirke's 
return. 

He  stopped  on  the  landing  outside,  and, 
opening  the  door  a  little  way  only,  asked, 
without  entering  the  room,  if  she  wanted  any- 
thing that  he  could  send  her.  She  begged 
him  to  come  in.  His  face  was  worn  and 
weary ;  he  looked  older  than  she  had  seen  him 
look  yet.  "  Did  you  put  my  letter  on  the  table 
for  me?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.-  I  put  it  there  at  tlie  doctor's  re- 
quest." 

"  I  suppose  the  doctor  told  you  it  was  from 
my  sister  ?  She  is  coming  to  see  me,  and 
Miss  Garth  is  coming  to  see  me.  They  will 
thank  you  for  all  your  goodness  to  me  better 
than  I  can." 

"  I  have  no  claim  on  their  thanks,"  he  an- 
swered, sternly.  "  AVhat  I  have  done  was  not 
done  for  them,  but  fpr  you."  He  waited  a 
little  and  looked  at  her.  His  face  would  have 
betrayed  him  in  that  look;  his  voice  would 
have  betrayed  him  in  the  next  words  he 
epoke,  if  she  had  not  guessed  the  truth"  al- 


ready. "  \Vlien  your  friends  come  here,"  he 
resumed,  "  they  will  take  you  away,  I  suppdse, 
to  some  better  place  than  this  V" 

"  They  can  take  me  to  no  place,"  she  said, 
gently,  "  which  I  shall  think  of  as  I  think  of 
the  place  where  you  found  me.  They  can 
take  me  to  no  dearer  friend  than  the  friend 
who  has  saved  my  life." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence^  between 
them. 

"  We  have  been  very  happy  here,"  he  went 
on,  in  lower  and  lower  tones.  "  You  won't 
forget  me  when  we  have  said  good-by  ?" 
-  She  turned  pale  as  the  words  passed  his 
lips;  and,  leaving  her  chair,  knelt  down  at 
the  table,  so  as  to  look  up  into  his  face,  and  to 
force  him  to  look  into  hers. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  of  it  ?"  she  asked.  "We 
are  not  going. to  say  good-by  —  at  least  not 
yet." 

"  I  thought — "  he  began. 
"  Yes  ?" 

"  I  thought  your  friends  were  coming  here — " 
She  eagerly  interrupted  him.  "J)o  you 
think  I  would  go  away  with  anybciiy,"  she 
said,  "  even  with  the  dearest  relation  I  have 
in  the  world,  and  leave  you  here,  not  knowing 
and  not  caring  whether  I  ever  saw  you  again  ? 
Oh,  you  don't  think  that  of  me !"  she  exclaim- 
ed, with  the  passionate  tears  springing  into 
her  eyes  —  "  I  'm  sure  you  don't  think  that  of 
me !" 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  never  have  thought,  I 
never  caii  think,  unjustly  or  unworthily  of 
you."    • 

Before  he  could  add  another  word  she  left 
the  table  as  suddenly  as  she  had  approached 
it,  and  returned  to  her  chair.  He  had  uncon- 
sciously replied  in  terms  that  reminded  her  of 
the  hard  necessity  which  still  remained  unful- 
filled —  the  necessity  of  telling  him  the  story 
of  the  past.  Not  an  idea  of  concealing  that 
story  from  bis  knowledge  crossed  her  mind. 
"  Will  he  love  me,  when  he  knows  the  truth, 
as  he  loves  me  now  ?"  That  was  her  only 
thought  as  she  tried  to  approach  the  subject 
in  his  presence  without  shrinking  from  it. 

"  Let  us  put  my  own  feelings  out  of  the 
question,"  she  said.  "  There  is  a  reason  for 
my  not  going  away,  unless  I  first  have  the 
assurance  of  seeing  you  again.  You  have  a 
claim  —  the  strongest  claim  of  any  one  —  to 
know  how  I  came  here,  unknown  to  my 
friends,  and  how  it  was  that  you  found  me 
fallen  so  low." 

"  I  make  no  claim,*'  he  said,  hastily.  "  I 
wish  to  know  nothing  which  it  distresses  you 
to  tell  me." 

''  You  have  always  done  your  duty,"  she 
rejoined,  with  a  faint  smilen  "  Let  me  take 
example  from  you,  if  I  can,  and  try  to  do 
mine." 

"  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your  father,"  he 
said,  bitterly.  "  Duty  is  more  easily  done  at 
ray  age  than  it  is  at  yours." 

His  age  was  so  constantly  in  his  mind  now 


NO  NAME. 


375 


tbat  he  fancied  it  un\>i  ht'  in  her  mind  too. 
She  had  never  giv«n  it  a  thouglit.  The  ref- 
erence he  had  just  made  to  it  did  not  divert 
her  for  a  moment  from  the  suly'ect  on  which 
she  was  speaking  to  him. 

"  You  don't  know  how  I  value  your  good 
opinion  of  me^"  sJie  said,  struggling  resolutely 
to  sustain  her  sinking  courage.  "  How  can  I 
deserve  your  kindness,  how  can  I  feel  that  I 
am  worthy  of  your  regard,  until  I  have  open- 
ed my  heart  to  you  ?  Oh,  don't  encourage, 
me  in  my  own  miserable  weakness  I  Help  me 
to  tell  the  truth — force  me  to  tell  it,  for  my 
own  sake,  if  not  for  yours !" 

He  was  deeply  moved  by  the  fervent  sin- 
cerity of  that  appeal. 

"  You  shall  tell  it,"  he  said.  You  are  right 
— and  I  was  wrong."'  He  waited  a  little,  and 
considered.  "  Would  it  be  ea.sier  to  you,"  he 
asked,  with  delicate  consideration  for  her,  "  to 
write  it  than  tell  it?" 

She  caught  gratefully  at  the  suggestion. 
"  Far  easier,"  she  replied.  "  1  can  be  sure  of 
myself — I  can  be  sure  of  hiding  nothing  from 
you,  if  I  write  it.  Don't  write  to  me,  on  your 
side  I"  she  added  suddenly,  seeing,  with  a 
woman's  instinctive  quickness  of  penetration, 
the  danger  of  totally  renouncing  her  personal 
influence  over  him.  "  Wait  till  we  meet,  and 
telLme  with  your  own  lips  what  you  think." 

"  Where  shall  I  tell  it  ?" 

"  Here,"  she  said,  eagerly.     ''  Here,  where 
you  found  me  helpless — here,  where  you  have 
brought  me  back  to  life,  and  where  I  have 
first  learned  to  kupw  you.»  I  can  bear  the 
hardest  words  you  say  to  me,  if  you  will  only 
.«*ay  them  in  this  room.     It  is  impossible  I  can 
be  away  longer  than  a  month  ;  a  month  will 
be  enough,  and  more  than  enough.    If  I  come  ; 
back — "      She  stopped  confusedly.  .  "  I  am  \ 
thinking  of  myself,"  she  said,  "  when  I  ought  j 
to  be  thinking  of  you.     You  have  your  own  i 
occupations  and  your  own  friends.    Will  you  i 
decide  for  us.    Will  you  say  how  it  shall  be  ?"  ' 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish.  If  you  come 
back  in  a  month  you  will  find  me  here." 

"Will  it  cause  you  no  sacrifice  of  your  own 
comfort  and  your  own  plans  ?" 

"It  will  cause  me  nothing,"  he  replied, 
but  a  journey  back  to  the  City."  He  rose 
and  took  his  hat.  "  I  must  go  there  at  once," 
he  added.  "  or  I  shall  not  be  in  time." 

"  It  is  a  promise  between  us  ?"  she  said,  and 
held  out  her  hand. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  a  little  sadly.  ♦'  It  is 
a  promise." 

Slight  as  it  wa5,  the  shade  of  melancholy 
in  his  manner  pained  her.  Forgetting  all 
other  anxieties  in  the  anxiety  to  cheer  him, 
she  gently  pressed  the  hand  he  gave  her.  "  If 
tJiat  won't  tell  him  the  truth."  she  thought, 
"  nothing  will." 

It  failed  to  tell  him  the  truth — but  it  forced 
a  question  on  his  mind  which  he  had  not  ven- 
tured to  a.sk  himself  before.  "  Is  it  her  errati- 
t\i(]o  or  her  love  that  is  speaking  to  me  .'"'  he 


wondered,  v  It  I  was  only  a  younger  man,  I 
might  almost  hope  it  was  her  love."  That 
terrible  sum  in  subtraction  which  had  first 
presented  itself  on  the  day  when  she  told  him 
her  age  began  to  trouble  him  again  as  he  left 
the  house.  He  took  twenty  from  forty-one, 
at  intervals,  all  the  way  back  to  the  ship- 
ownej.s'  office  in  Cornhill. 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  approached  the 
table  to  write  the  line  of  answer  which  Miss 
Garth  requested,  and  gratefully  to  accept  the 
proposal  that  had  been  made  to  her. 

The  second  letter,  which  she  had  laid  aside 
and  forgotten,  was  the -first  object  that  caught 
her  eye  on  changing  her  place.  She  opened 
it  immediately  and,  not  recognizing  the  hand- 
writing, looked  at  the  signature.  To  li«r 
unutterable  astonishment  her  correspond!  ui 
proved  to  be  no  less  a  person  than  old  Mr. 
Clare ! 

The  philosopher's  letter  dispensed  with  all 
the  ordinary  forms  of  address,  and  entered  on 
its  subje(;t  without  prefatory  phrases  of  any 
kind  in  these  uncompromising  terms  : 

"  I  have  more  news  for  you  of  that  con- 
temptible cur,  my  son.  Here  it  is  in  the  few- 
est possible  words. 

"  I  always  told. you,  if  you  remember,  that 
Frank  was  a  Sneak.  The  very  first  trace  re- 
covered of  him,  after  his  running  away  from 
his  employers  in  China,  presents  him  in  that 
character.  Where  do  yoo  think  he  turns  up 
next  ?  He  turns  up  hidden  behind  a  couple 
of  flour-barrels,  on  board  an  English  vessel 
bound  homeward  from  Hong-Kong  to  Lon- 
don. 

"  The  name  of  the  ship  was  The  D^iver- 
ance,  and   the  commander  was  one   Captain 
Kirke.    Instead  of  acting  like  a  sensible  man, 
and  throwing  Frank  overboard.  Captain  Kirke 
was  fool  enough  to  listen  to  his  story.     He 
made  the  most  of  his  misfortunes,  you  may  bo 
sure  —  he  was  half-starved' ;  he  was  an  Eng- 
lishman lost  in  a  strange  country,  without  a 
friend  to  help  him;  his  only  chance  of  getting 
home  was  to  sneak  into  the  hold  of  an  English 
vessel  —  and  he  had  sneaked  in,  accordingly, 
at  Hong-Kong,  two  davs  since.    That  was  his 
storv.     Any  other  loul   in  Frank's  situation 
would  have  been  rope's-ended  by  any  other 
captain.     Deserving  no  pity  from    anybody, 
Frank   was,  a.s  a  matter  of  course,  coddled 
and  compassionated  on  the  spot.    The  captain 
I  took  him  by  the  hand,  the  frcw  pitied  him, 
and  the  pa.ssengcrs  patted  him  on  the  back. 
I  He  was  fed,  clothe<l,  and  presented  with  his 
I  passage  home.     Luck  enough,  so  far,  you  will 
i  say.     Nothing  of  the  sort;  nothing  like   luck 
,  enough  for  my  despicable  son. 

"  The  ship  touched  at  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope.  Among  his  other  acts  (W  folly,  Cap- 
I  tain  Kirke  took  a  woman-passenger  on  board 
at  that  place  — not  a  young  woman,  by  any 
means  —  the  elderly  widow  of  a  rich  colonist. 
Is  it  nncewarv  to  say  that  she  forthwith  be- 


276 


NO  NAME. 


came  deeply  interested  in  Frank  and  his  mis- 
fortunes? Is  it  necessary  to  tell  you  what 
followed  ?  Look  back  at  my  son's  career,  and 
you  will  see  that  what  followed  was  all  of 
a  piece  with  what  went  before.  He  didn't 
deserve  your  poor. father's  interest  in  him — 
and  he  got  it.  He  didn't  deserve  your  attach- 
ment —  and  he  got  it.  He  didn't  deserve  the 
best  place  in  one  of  the  best  offices  in  Lon- 
don; he  didn't  deserve  an  equally  good 
chance  in  one  of  the  best  mercantile  houses 
in  China ;  he  didn't  deserve  food,  clothing, 
pity,  and  a  free  passage  home  —  and  he  got 
them  all.  Last,  not  least,  he  didn't  even 
deserve  to  marry  a  woman  old  enough  to 
be  his  grandmother  ^—  and  he  has  done  it. 
Not  five  minutes  since  I  sent  his  wedding- 
cards  out  to   the   dust-hole,  and   tosged  the 

detter  that  came  with  them  into  the  fire. 
The  last  piece  of  information  which  that  let- 
tor  contains  is,  that  he  and  his  wife  are  look- 
ing out  for  a  house  and  estate  to  suit  them. 
Mark  my  words,  Frank  will  get  one  of  the 
best  estates  in  England  ;  a  seat  in  the  House 
of  Commons  will  follow  as  a  matter  of  course ; 

,  and  one  of  the  legislators  of  this  Ass-ridden 
country  will  be — My  Lout  ! 

"If  you  ai'e  the  sensible  girl  I  have  always 
iaken  you  for,  you  have  long  since  learned  to 
rate  Frank  at  his  true  value,  and  the  news  I 
send  you  will  only  confirm  your  contempt  for 
him.  I  wish  your  poor  father  could  have  lived 
but  to  see  this  day.  Often  as  I  have  missed 
my  old  gossip,  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  felt 
the  loss  of  him  so  keenly  as  I  felt  it  when 
Frank's  wedding  -  cards  and  Frank's  letter 
came  to  his  house. 

"  Your  friend,  if  you  ever  want  one, 
I   ^  "Francis  Clare,  Sen." 

•  With  one  momentary  disturbance  of  her 
composui'e,  produced  by  the.  appearance  of 
Kirke's  name  in  Mr.  Clare's  singular  nar- 
rative, Magdalen  read  the  letter  steadily 
through  from  beginning  to  end.  The  time 
when  it  could  have  distressed  her  was  gone 
by ;  the  scales  had  long  since  fallen  from  her 
eyes.  ]VIr.  Clare  •  himself  would  have  been 
satisfied  if  he  had  seen  the  quiet  contemjjt  on 
her  face  as  she  laid  aside  his  letter.  The  only 
serious  thought  it  cost  her  was  a  thought  in 
which  Kirke  was  concerned.  The  careless 
manner  in  which  he  had  referred,  in  her 
presence,  to  the  passengers  on  board  his  ship, 
without  mentioning  any  of  them  by  their 
names,  showed  her  that  Frank  must  have 
kept  silence  on  the  subject  of  the  engage- 
ment once  existing  between  them.  The  con- 
fession of  that  vanished  delusion  was  left  for 
her  to  make,  as  part' of  the  story  of  the 
past  which  she  had  pledged  herself  unre- 
servedly t(;^  reveal. 

She  wrote  to  Lliss  Garth,  and  sent  the  letter 
to  the  post  immediately. 

The  next  morning  brought  a  line  of  re- 
joinder. '  Miss  Garth  had  wiitten  to  secure 


the  cottage  at  Shanklin,  and  Mr.  Merrick  had 
consented  to  Magdalen's  removal  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Norah  would  be  the  first  to 
arrive  at  the  house ;  and  Miss  Garth  would 
follow,'  with  a  comfortable  carriage,  to  take 
the  Invalid-  to  the  railway.  Every  needful 
arrangement  had  been  made  for  her;  the 
effort  of  moving  was  the  one  effort  she  would 
have  to  make. 

Magdalen  read  the  letter  thankfully  —  but 
her  thoughts  wandered  from  it,  and  followed 
Kirke  on  his  return  to  the  City.  What  was 
the  business  which  had  once  already  taken 
him  there  In  the  morning  ?  And  why  had 
the  promise  exchanged  between  them  obliged 
him  to  go  to  the  City  again  for  the  second 
time  In  one  day  ? 

Was  It  by  any  chance  business  relating  to, 
the  sea  ?  Were  his  employers  tempting  him 
to  go  back  to  his  ship  ?  •  . 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  first  agitation  of  the  meeting  between 
the  sisters  was  over;  the  first  vivid  impres- 
sions, half  pleasurable,  half-  painful,  had  soft- 
ened a  little  —  and  Norah  and  Magdalen  sat 
together,  hand  in  hand,  each  rapt  in  the 
silent  fulness  of  her  own  joy. 

Magdalen  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  You  have  something  to  tell  me,  Noi-ah  V" 

"  I  have  a  thousand  things  to  tell  you,  my 
love;  and  you  have  ten  thousand  things  to 
tell  me.  Do  you  mean  that  second  surprise, 
which  I  told  you  of  in  nay  letter  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  suppose  it  must  concern  me  very 
nearly,  or  you  would  hardly  have  thought  of 
mentioning  it  in  your  first  letter?" 

"It  does  concern  you  very  nearly.  You 
have  heard  of  George's  house  in  Essex  ?  You 
must  be  familiar  at  least  with  the  name  of  St. 
Crux  ?  What  is  there  to  start  at,  my  dear  ? 
I  am  afraid  you  are  hardly  strong  enough  for 
any  more  surprises,  just  yet  ?" 

"  Quite  stro'ng  enough,  Norah.  I  have 
something  to  ^ay  to  you  about  St.  Crux  —  I 
have  a  surprise,  on  my  side,  for  you.'' 

"  Will  you  tell  it  me  now  ?" 

"  Not  now.  You  shall  know  it  when  we 
are  at  the  sea-side  —  you  shall  know  it  before 
I  accept  the  kindness  which  has  invited  me 
to  your  husband's  house." 

"  What  can  it  be  ?  Why  not  tell  me  at 
once?"   • 

"You  used  often  to  set. me  the  example  of 
patience,  Norah,  in  old  times  —  will  you  set 
me  the  example  now  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Shall  I  return  to  my 
own  story  as  well  ?  Yes  V  Then  we  will  go 
back  to  it  at  once.  I  was  telUng  you  that  St. 
Crux  was  George's  house,  in  Essex,  the  house 
he  inherited  from  his  uncle.  Knowing  that 
Miss  Garth  had  a  curiosity  to  see  the  place, 
he  left  word  (when  he  went  abroad  after  the 


NO  NAME. 


277 


admiral's  death)  that  she  and  any  friends  who 
came  with  her  were  to  be  admitted,  if  she 
'happened  to  find  herself  in  the  neighborhood 
durmg  his  absence.  -  Miss  Garth  and  I,  and  a 
large  party  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  friends,  found 
ourselves  in  the  neighborhood  not  long  after 
(Teorge's*5fleparture.  We  had  all  been  invit- 
ed to  see  the  launch  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  new 
}acht,  from  the  buil<ler's  yard  at  Wivenhoe 
in  Essex.  When  the  launch  was  over,  the 
rest  of  the  company  returned  to  Colchestfr 
to  dine.  Miss  Garth  and  I  contrived  to  get 
into  the  same  carriage  together,  with  nobody 
but  my  two  little  pupils  foi;  our  companions. 
We  gave  the  coachman  his  orders,  and  drove 
i  round  by  St.  Crux.  The  moment  Miss  Garth 
•  mentioned  her  name  we  were  let  in,  and 
shown  all  over  the  house.  I  don't  know  how 
to  describe  it  to  you :  it  is  the  most  bewilder- 
ing place  I  ever  saw  in  my  life —  " 

"  Don't  attempt  to  desoribe  it,  Norah.     Go 
on  with  your  story  instead." 

"  Very  well.     My  story  takes  me  straight 
into  one  of  the  rooms  at  St.  Crux  —  a  room 
about  as  long  as  your  street  here  ;  so  dreary, 
so  dirty,  and  so  dreadfully  cold  that  I  shiver 
at  the  bare  recollection  of  it.     Miss   Garth 
was  for  getting  out  of  it  again  as  speedily  as 
possible,  and  so  was  1.     But  the  housekeeper 
declined  to  let  us  oil'  without  first  looking  at 
a  singular  piece  of  furniture  —  the  only  piece 
of  furniture   in  the  comfortless   place.     She 
called  it  a  tripod,,!  think.     (There  is  nothing 
^o  be  alarmed  at,  Magdalen  ;   I   assure    you 
tjicre  is  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at !)     At  aay 
Pate,   it  was  a   strange   three-legged    thing, 
'     which  supported  a  great  pan  full  of  charcoal 
J'ashes  at  the  top.     It  was  considrt^d  by  all 
^ood  judges  (the  housekeeper  told  us)  a  won- 
derful piece  of  chasing  in  metal ;  and  she  es- 
|»ecially  pointed  out  the  beauty  of  some  scroll- 
work running  round  the  inside  of  the  pan, 
•with  Latin  mottoes  on  it,  signifying  —  I  forget 
wliat.     I  felt  not  the  slightest  interest  in  the 
ihing  my.self,  but  I  looked  close  .at  the  scroll- 
work to  satisfy  the  housekeeper.     To  confess 
the  truth,  she  was  rather  tiresome  with  her 
iiu'chanically-learned  lecture  on  fine  metal- 
work,  and  while  she  was  t^ilking  I  found  my- 
,     self  idly  stirring  the  soft,  feathery,  white  ashes 
■   backward  and  forward  With  my  hand,  pre- 
*,    tending  to  listen,  with  my  mind  a  hundred 
i  miles  away  from  her.     I  don't  know  how  long 
♦*  or  how  short  a  time  I  had  been  playing  with 
/  the  ashes  when  my  finger  suddenly  encoun- 
,.  tered  a  piece  of  crumpled  paper  hidden  deep 
^  among  them.      When  I  brought  it  to  the  sur- 
5  face  it  proved  to  be  a  letter  —  a  long  letter, 
i'ull  of  cramped,  close  writing.     You  have  an- 
licipated  my  story,  Magdalen,  before  1  can 
end  it.     You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the 
letter  which  my  idle  fingers  found  was  the 
Secret  Trust.     Hold  out  your  hand,  my  dear. 
I  have  got  George's  pernlission  to  show  it  to 
you  —  and  there  it  is !" 
She  put  the  Trust  into  her  sister's  hand. 


Magdalen  took  it  from  her  mechanically. 
"You!"  she  said,  looking  at  her  si.ster  with 
the  remembrance  of  all  that  she  had  vainly 
ventured,  of  all  that  she  had  v^iinly  suffered 
at  St.  Crux.    ^^Xou  have  found  it !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Norah,  gaily.  "  The  Trust  has 
proved  no  exception  to  the  gener?il  pervogrsity 
of  all  lost  things.  Look  for  them,  and  they 
remain  invisible.  Leave  them  alone,  and  they 
reveal  themselves.  You  and  your  lawyer, 
Magdalen,  were  both  justified  in  supposing 
that  your  interest  in  this  discovery  was  an 
interest  of  no  common  kind.  I  spare  you  all 
our  consultations  after  i  had  produced  the 
crumpled  paper  from  the  ashes.  It  ended  in 
George's  lawyer  being  written  to,  and  in 
George  himself  being  recalled  from  the  .Con-- 
tinent.  Miss  Garth  and  I  both  sa*w  him  im- 
mediately on  hL«i  return ;  and  he  did,  what 
neither  of  us  coulcl  do  —  he  solved  the  mys- 
tery of  the  Trust  being  hidden  in  the  ehar- 
coal  ashes.  Admiral  Bartram,  you  must 
know,  was  all  his  life  subject  to  fits  of  som- 
nambuli.sm.  He  had  been  fqund  walking  in 
his  sleep  not  long  before  his  death  — just  at 
the  time,  too,  when  he  was  sadly  troubled  in 
his  mind  on  the  subject  of  that  very  letter  in 
your  hand.  George's  idea  is  that  he  must 
have  fancied  he  was  doing  in  his  sleep  what 
he  would  have  died  rather  than  do  in  his 
waking  moments  -y  destroying  the  Trust. 
The  fire  had  been  lit  in  the  pan  not  long  be- 
fore, and  he  no  doubt  saw  it  still  burning  in  > 
his  dream.     This  was  George's  explanation  > 

of  the  strange  position  of  the  letter  when  I 
discovered  it.  The  question  of  what  was  to 
be  done  with  the  letter  itself  came  ne^t,  and 
was  no  easy  question  for  a  woman  to  under- 
stand. But  I  determined  to  master  it,  and  I 
did  master  it,  because  it  rented  to  you." 

"  Let  me  try  to  master  it  in  my  turn,"  said 
Magdalen.  "  I  have  a  particular  reason  for 
wishing  to  know  as  much  about  this  letter  as 
you  know  yourself  What  has  it  done  for 
others  '?  and  •vvhat  is  it  to  do  for  me  ?" 

"My  dear  Magdalen,  how  strangely  you 
.look  at  it!  how  strangely  you  talk  of  it! 
Worthless  as  it  may  appear,  that  morsel  of 
paper  gives  you  a  fortune." 

"Is  my  only  claim  to  the  fortune  the  claim 
^hich  this  letter  gives  me  ?" 

"  Yes — the  letter  is  your  ooly  claim.  Shall 
I  try  if  I  can  explain  it  in  two  words  ?  Taken 
by  itself  the  letter  might,  in  the  lawyer's 
opinion,  have  been  made  a  matter  for  dis- 
pute —  though  I  am  sure  (ieorge  would  have 
sanctioned  no  proceeding  of  that  .sort.  Taken, 
however,  with  the  postscript  which  Admiral 
Bartram  attached  to  it  (you  will  see  the  lines 
if  you  look  under  the  signature  on  the  third 
page),  it  becomes  legally  binding,  as  well  as 
morally  binding,  on  the  admiral's  rcprescnt- 
ative.s.  I  have  exhausted  my  small  tdork  of 
legal  words,  and  must  go  on  in  my  own  lan- 
guage instead  of  in  the  lawyer's.  The  end 
of  the  thing  was  simply  this.     All  the  money 


9TR 


NO  NAME. 


went  back  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  estate 
(anotuer  legal  word !  my  vocabulary  is  richer 
ilian  I  thought),  for  one  plain  reason  —  that 
it  had  not  been  employed  as  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
Kfcone  directed.  If  Mrs.  Girdlestone  had  lived, 
or  if  George  had  married  me  a  few  months 
earlier,  results  would  have  been  just  the 
other  way.  As  it  is,  half  the  money  has 
been  already  divided  between  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone's  next  of  kin,  which  means,  translated 
into  plain  English,  my  husband  and  his  poor 
bedridden  sister — who  took  the  money  for- 
mally, one  d-iy,  to  satisfy  the  lawyer,  and 
who  gave  it  back  again  generously  the  next 
to  satisfy  herself  So  much  for  one  half  of 
the  legacy.  The  other  half,  my  dear,  is  all 
yours.  How  strangely  events  happen,  Mag- 
dalen !  It  is  only  two  years  since  you  andl 
were  left  disinherited  orphans,  and  we  are 
sharing  our  poor  father's  fortune  between  us 
after  ?ill !" 

"  Wait  a  little,  Norah.  Our  shares  come 
to  us  in  very  different  ways." 

"  Do  they  ?  Mine  comes  to  me  by  my  hus- 
band, yours  comes  to  you — "  She  stopped 
confusedly,  and  changed  color.  "  Forgive 
me,  my  own  love  !"  she  said,  putting  Magda- 
len's hand  to  her  lips.  "  T  have  forgotten 
what  I  ought  to  have  remembered.  I  have 
thoughtlessly  distressed  you !" 

"  No !"  isaid  Magdalen.  "  You  have  en- 
couTEiged  me." 

"  Encouraged  you  ?" 

"  You  shall  see." 

With  those  words  she  rose  quietly  from  the 
sofa,  and  walked  to  the  open  window.  Be- 
fore Norah  could  follow  her  she  had  torn  the 
Trust  to  pieces,  and  had  cast  the  fragments 
into  the,  street. 

She  came  baR'k  to  the  sofa  and  laid  her 
hfead  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  ^n  Novah's 
bosom.  "  I  will  owe  nothing  to  my  past  life," 
she  said.  "  I  have  parted  with  it  as  I  have 
parted  with  those  torn  morsels/if  paper.  All 
the  thoughts  and  all  the  hopes  Jbelonging  to 
it  are  put  away  from  me  for  ever  !" 

"  Magdalen !  my  husband  will  never  allow 
you-^I  will  never  allow  you  myself — " 

"Hush!  hush!  What  your  husband  thinks 
right,  Norah,  you  and  I  will  think  right  too. 
I  will  take  from  you  what  I  would  never  haVc 
taken  if  that  letter  had  given  it  to  me.  The 
end  I  dreamed  of  has  come.  Nothing  is 
changed  but  the  position  I  once  thought  we 
might  hold  toward  each  other.  Better  as  it 
is,  my  love-»-far,  far  better  as  it  is." 

So  she  made  the  last  sacrifice  of  the  old 
perversity  and  the  old  pride.  So  she  entered 
on  the  new  and  nobler  life.  jt 

*         * ,       *         *         »         «      ^  * 

A  month  had  passed.  The  autumn  sun- 
shitie  was  bright  even  in  the  murky"  streets  ; 
and  tile  clocks  in  the  neighborhood  werfe  just 
striking  two  as  Magdalen  returned  alone  to 
the  house  in  Aaron's  Buildings. 


"Is  he  waiting  for  me?"  she  asktd,  anx- 
iously, when  the  landlady  let  her  in. 

He  was  waiting  in  the  front  roooa.  Ma^^J 
dalen  stole  up  the  stairs  and  knocked  at  the 
door.  H  J  called  to  her  carelessly  and  abJ 
sently  to  come  in  —  plainly  thinl^iiig  that  it 
was  only  the  servant  who  applied  for  permis-i 
sion  to  enter  the  room. 

"  You  hardly  expected  me  so  soon,  ?"  shej 
said,  speaking  on  the  threshold,  and  pausing 
ifelere  to  enjoy  his  surprise  as  he  started  to  his 
feet  and  looked  at  her.  , 

The  only  traces  of  il)ness  still  visible  in 
her  face  left  a  delicacy  an  its  outline  which 
added  refinement  to  her  beauty.  She  "vfras 
simply  dressed  in  muslin.  Her  plain  straw 
bonnet  had  no  other  ornament  than  the  white 
ribbon  with  which  it  was  sparingly  trimmed. 
She  had  never  looked  lovelier  in  her  best 
days  than  she  looked  now,  as  she  advanced 
to  the  table  at  which  ne  had  been  sitting, 
with  a  little  basket  of  Iflowers  that  she  had 
brought  with  her  from  the  country,  and  of- 
fered hJm  her  hand. 

He  looked  anxious  and  careworn  when 
she  saw  him  closer.  She  interrupted  his  first 
inquiries  and  congratulations  to  ask  if  he  had 
remained  in  London  since  they  had  parted — 
if  he  had  not  even  gone  away  for  a  few  days 
only  to  see  his  friends  in  Suffolk  ?  No :  he 
had  been  in  London  (:ver  since.  He  never 
told  her  that  the  pretty  parsonage-house  in 
Suffolk  wanted  all  tljose"  associations  with 
herself  in  which  the  jioor  four  walls  at  i^a- 
ron's  buildings  were  so  rich.  He  only  Sciid 
he  had  been  in  London  ever  since. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  asked,  looking  him  attei'*- 
tively  in  the  face,  "  K  you  are  as  happy  to 
see  me  agaiij  as  I  am  ro  see  you  V" 

"  Perhaps  I  am  even  happier,  in  my  differ- 
ent way,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile. 

She  took  off  her  bonnet  and  scarf,  aud 
seated  herself  once  more  in  her  own  ar:p- 
chair.  "  I  suppose  the  street  is  very  ugly," 
she  said ;  "  and  I  am  sure  nobody  can  deny 
that  the  house  is  very  small.  And  yet — aud 
yet  it  feels  like  coming  home  again.  Sit 
there,  where  you  used  to  sit,  and  tell  me  about 
yourself;  I  want  to  know  all  that  you  have 
done — all  tnat  you  have  thought  even — while 
I  have  beQn  away."  She  tried  to  resume 
the  endless  succession  of  questions  by  means 
of  which  she  was  accustomed  to  lure  him  into 
speaking  of  himself  But  she  put  them  far 
less  .spontaneously,  far  less  adroitly,  tiian 
usual.  Her  one  all-absorbing  anxiety  in  en- 
tering that  room  was  not  an  anxiety  to  be 
trifled  with.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
wasted  in  constrained  inquiries  on  one  side, 
in  reluctant  replies  on  the  other,  she  ventured 
near  the  dangerous  subject  at  last;      -/ 

"Have  you  received  the  letters  I  wrote  to 
you  from  the  sea-sjde  f'  she  asked,  suddenly, 
looking  away  from  him  for  the  first  time. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  1'  all." 

A 


NO 


naAe. 


sis 


"  Bsve  yon  read  them  ?" 

"  Every  one  of  them ;  many  times  over," 

Her  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  suffocate  her. 
She  had  kept  her  promise  biravefy.  The  whole 
story  of  her  life,  from  the  time  of  the  home-' 
wreck  at  Combe-Raven  to  the  time  when  she 
had  destroyed  the  Secret  Trust  in  her  sister's 
presence,  had  been  all  laid  befo^  kim.  Noth- 
ing that  she  had  done,  nothing  even  that  she 
had  thought,  had  been  concealed  from  his 
knowledge.  As  he  would  have  kept  a  pledeed 
engagement  with  her,  so  she  had  kept  her 
pledged  engagement  with  him.  She  had  not 
faltered  in  the  resolution  to  do  this — and  now 
she  faltered  over  the  oae  decisive  <iue8tidn 
which  she  had  come  there  to  ask.  Strong  as 
the  desire  in  her  was  to  know  if  she  had  lost 
or  won  him,  the  foar  of  knowing  was,  at  that 
moment,  stronger  still.  She  waited  and  trem- 
bled ;  she  itaited,  and  said  no  more. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  about  your  letters  ?" 
he  asked.     "  Mav  I  tell  vou — " 

If  she  had  looked  at  him,'  as  he  said  those 
few  words,  she  would  have  seen  what  he 
thought  of  her  in  his  face.  She  would  have 
seen,  innocent  as  he  was  in  this  world's  knowl- 
edge, that  he  kno^  the  priceless  value,  the 
all- ennobling  virtue,  of  a  woman  who  speaks 
the  truth.  But  she  had  no  courage  to  look  at 
him  —  no  courage  to  raise  her  eyes  from  her 
Up- 

"Not  just  yet,"  she  said  faintly.  "Not 
quite  so  soon  after  we  have  met  again." 

She  rose  hurriedly  from  her  chair  and  walk- 
ed to  the  window,  turned  back  again  into  the 
room  and  approached  the  table,  close  to  where 
he  was  sitting.  The  writing  materials  scattered 
near  him  offered  her  a  pretext  for  changing 
the  subject,  and  she  seized  on  it  directly. 
"  'Were  you  writing  a  letter,"  she  asked,  "when 
I  came  m  V" 

"  I  was  thinking  about  it,"  he  replied.  "  It 
was  not  a  letter  to  be  written  without  think- 
ing first"  He  rose,  as  he  answered  her,  to 
gather  the  writing  materials  together,  and  put 
them  away. 

"  Why  should  I  interrupt  you  ?"  she  said. 
"  'Why  not  let  me  try  whether  1  can't  help 
yon  instead.     Is  it  a  secret  V" 

"  No — not  a  secret." 

He  hesitated  as  he  answered  her.  She  in- 
stantly guessed  the  truth. 

"  Is  it  about  your  ship  ?" 

He  little  knew  how  she  had  been  thinking 
in  her  absence  from  him  of  the  business  which 
be  believed  that  he  had  concealed  from  her. 


He  little  knew  that  ahe  had  learned  already 
to  be  jealous  of  his  ship. 

"  Do  they  want  you  to  return  to  your  old 
life  T*  she  went  on.    "  Do  they  want  you  to 
go  back  to  the  sea  ?    Must  you  say  Yet  or  No . 
at  once  'i" 

"  At  once." 

"  If  I  had  not  come  in  when  I  did,  would 
you  have  said  Yes  ?" 

She  unconsciously  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm, 
forgetting  all  inferior  considerations  in  her 
breathless  anxiety  to  hear  his  next  words. 
The  confession  of  his  love  was  within  a  hairV 
breadth  Of  escaping  him,  but  he  checked  the 
utterance  of  it  even  yet.  "  I  don't  care  for 
myself,"  he  thought.  "  But  how  can  I  be  cer- 
tain of  not  distressing  her  f" 

"  'Would  you  have  said  Yes  V  she  repeated. 

"  I  was  doubting,"  he  answered  —  "I  was 
doubting  between  Ves  and  No." 

Her  hand  tightened  on  his  arm;  a  sudden 
trembling  seized  her  in  every  limb ;  she  could 
bear  it  no  longer.  All  her  heart  went  out  to 
him  in  her  next  words. 

"  Were  you  doubting /or  my  sake?" 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Take  my  confession  in 
return  for  yours  —  I  was  doubting  for  your 
sake." 

She  said  no  more — she  only  looked  at  him. 
In  that  look  the  truth  reached  him  at  last. 
The  next  instant  she  was  folded  in  his  arms, 
and  was  shedding  delicious  tears  of  joy,  with 
her  face  hidden  on  his  bosom. 

"  Do  I  deserve  my  happiness  ?"  she  mur- 
mured, asking  the  one  question  at  last.  "  Oh,« 
I  know  how  the  poor  narrow  people  .who  have 
never  felt  amd  never  soifered  would  answer 
me  if  I  asked  them  what  I  ask  you.  If  they 
knew  my  story  they  would  forget  all  the  prov- 
ocation, and  only  remember  the  offense  — 
they,  would  fasten  on  my  sin,  and  pass  all  my  '^ 
I  suffering  by.  But  you  are  not  one  of  them  ? 
I  Tell  me  if  yon  h%ve  any  shadow  of  a  miae;iv- 
ing !  Tell  me  if  von  doubt  that  the  one  dear 
object  of  all  my  hfe  to  come  is  to  live  worthy 
of  you  !  I  asked  you  to  wait  and  see  me :  I 
asked  yon  if  there  was  any  hard  truth  to  be 
told  to  tell  it  me  here  with  your  own  lips.  Tell 
it,  my  love,  my  husband  i— -iell  it  me  now  !" 

She  looked  up,  still  clinging  to  him  as  ahe 
clung  to  the  hope  of  her  better  life  to  come. 

"  Tell  me  the  troth  t"  she  repeated. 

"  With  mv  own  lips  ?" 

"  Yes !"  she  answered,  eageriy.  **  Say  what 
you  think  of  me  with  yoar  own  lipc" 

He  stooped  and  kinied  her. 


TBI   IRD. 


V 


